


these sins of mine (oh my god)

by WaveGoodbye



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Earp curse is a thing but the timeline is altered, F/F, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, a serial killer is on the loose in Purgatory and Wayhaught can't stop making eyes at each other, undercover stripper!Nicole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-24 20:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13818960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaveGoodbye/pseuds/WaveGoodbye
Summary: 'By anybody’s standards, Nicole had rarely ever been a shy person. Throughout her childhood, career, and personal life, she had always managed to work through any feelings of apprehension or discomfort by jumping straight in to any given situation, only she had already jumped in and it hadn’t made the slightest bit of difference. Not where Waverly was concerned. Not when Waverly watched dance after dance and refused to look away.Part of Nicole loved it; part of her revelled in it: the power.And part of Nicole had begun to discover that, where Waverly was concerned, she wasn’t the one who held any.'Or, the one where Nicole is an undercover cop working at Pussy Willows and Waverly can't stop staring at her, and Wynonna is exasperated by pretty much everything, especially Waverly's willingness to run towards danger and the maniac who wants her dead.





	1. Chapter 1

Nicole’s body ached all over; muscles previously unknown to her protesting with each movement. The bright light above her temporary blinded her each time she smirked and lifted her chin, rolling her hips to the music while she looked away from the small group of men watching her every move from their table in front of the stage; a small price to pay for her not to see a particularly unfavourable regular of hers. It wasn’t that he was rude or offensive, he just looked so much like her grandfather that uncomfortable dancing in front of him didn’t even cover it.   
  
She’d been to a strip club before. Once. An old friend had planned a ‘wild night’ for her birthday six years ago. Nicole had never been so mortified in her life. It’d been her first real social event with her friends since ditching her boyfriend —and men, for good— and they’d honest-to-God taken her to a female strip joint. It turned out to be one of her favourite birthday’s, and a perfect ‘remember when’ for the times she got to speak or hear from any of them.   
  
The only difference was that, for close to two weeks now, Nicole wasn’t giving money away, she was earning it.   
  
Pussy Willows.   
  
She snorted mentally at the newest edition to her ‘areas of expertise’ she could add. Nicole was a _pro_ at compartmentalising now, you could ask anyone.   
  
Well, not _everyone_. Okay, technically no-one besides her and her superior plus the guy who owned the place, Jonas.  
  
Nicole had never worked undercover before and jumped at the opportunity to do so once the case went from bad to worse. Convincing boss-man had been the hardest part. While she had the years experience under her belt, she had never been put forward for the undercover program. Bodies were racking up and they had few leads to go on, each of them coming to nothing.  
  
She was new to town and the residents hadn’t seen her in uniform yet. If there was a perfect time to do it, Nicole thought it was now.  
  
It had quickly proven to be much more difficult than she believed. Sure, she’d been informed on the specifics of the operation and everything it would involve, given plenty of time to change her decision with the promise that it would in no way reflect on any future opportunities, but something about it called to her.   
  
As the mostly-male crowd of the evening whooped and hollered at her, eyes raking all over her body, she wondered how she could ever have been so wrong. It was hard work; first walking in there on her first day, silent judgement written all over her face no matter how hard she tried to keep it off, and secondly the ungraceful fall from her high horse at the end of that same day once she knew a little about the women who worked there; found out _why_ they worked there.   
  
Now it was difficult because Nicole had to work hard at her dancing. She wasn’t terrible on her first day by any means, but after some instruction and tips from the women she worked alongside, it had undeniably improved. She was grateful for that, although on the flip side, not physically restraining any patron who got a little too handsy was no easy feat. The first —and only— time a large, calloused hand had grabbed at her body and squeezed her breasts before she knew what was happening, Nicole had broken two of his fingers in the time it took Jonas, her boss who always kept an eye on the girls, to nod his head and send the muscle over to eject him from the premises with a fat lip and blackened, swollen eye to accompany his throbbing fingers.   
  
Nicole had been dancing for over four hours for a little over a dozen different crowds. Thankfully the older gentleman who could pass as a doppelganger for her grandfather had left and she could dance a little easier. Nicole dropped low and came up smoothly, pushing her fingers through damp hair and smiling at her newest crowd of admirers below. Her red lips parted slightly, flicking her gaze up to scan the crowd for any new faces.  
  
She saw Lonnie and groaned internally.   
  
Lonnie only stopped by once during her shifts and never stayed for long.  
  
Nicole didn’t know him very well, but he seemed nice. She didn’t particularly enjoy dancing whenever he was there but she did feel safer knowing he checked in off his own back. Plus it gave her some comfort to see he felt equally as uncomfortable whenever their eyes locked during her sets, and he she’d never once caught him gawking.  
  
“Come on, babe.”  
  
Nicole looked down to one of the younger regulars she’d had over the past two weeks. He’d been in three nights each week. Champ Hardy. Usually arrived with friends in tow, all egging each other on whenever one of them got a dance. He held up a handful of bills.   
  
“Come earn these,” he continued.  
  
Nicole resisted the urge to wipe the smirk off his face and instead slapped one upon her own face as she stepped down off the stage she was on. He usually went straight for his favourite: Rosie. The past two nights, he’d been interested in Nicole. She was living the dream.   
  
“You mean I haven’t already?”  
  
“Oh no, totally,” Champ assured Nicole as she moved closer to him. “Champ Junior is _really_ uh… moved by your performance tonight, yeah.” He licked his lips, staring at the full chest in front of him. “It’s just…”  
  
“Just what? Don’t leave me hanging. Are you dishing out compliments or constructive criticism? Hit me, I can take it.”  
  
She really didn’t want to give him a personal dance. It wasn’t his gender or looks —she’d had a lot worse— or even the way his eyes devoured her. If she had to, she _could_ dance for him. Compartmentalising was her bitch now. He smelled good, that much he had going for him, and Nicole could close her eyes and imagine someone else. It was just that, strictly legal or not, she didn’t want to.   
  
Nicole only knew about him because of Rosie.   
  
“ _She_ can’t,” Champ groused, nodding over to Rosie who was hard at work entertaining a group of men across the club.   
  
“Rosie? She’s the most popular dancer we’ve got. You don’t like her?”  
  
“Bitch!” he declared. “Sorry if she’s, like, your friend or whatever. I know there’s a whole sisterhood pact thing you guys have going on, but it’s true. I’m not a liar, and it’s the truth, so… All I did was give her a compliment. Can’t even do that these days.”  
  
Rosie was a friend. A new one, but a friend nonetheless. Rosita had been the only dancer who intimidated Nicole on first impressions but she didn’t mind being wrong when it turned out to be a big mistake on her own part.   
  
Rosita danced for Champ regularly and earlier in the week part way through a dance he’d leaned in close to her ear, breath hot against her skin, and declared how hard he was going to go home and fuck his girlfriend because of her. Champ had kissed her neck sloppily and she responded by gripping his chin and pushing his head to the side, leaning close. “Yeah? Send her here after you’re done, so she actually knows what a good time feels like.”  
  
She and Rosita had laughed about it over a beer once work was done.   
  
It wasn’t as funny now that _she_ had to entertain this boy-man who, by miracle alone, was in a relationship. Nicole wondered if it was an opposites attract case, or whether Champ and his girlfriend deserved each other. Hard to guess.   
  
“Watch your mouth, she’s a friend.”  
  
Champ’s eyes lit up. “There you go.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“That’s what I was going to say, beautiful. You got this whole authority vibe. You don’t use it enough, I can tell. You’re holding back.”   
  
If only he knew.   
  
“You think you know me?” she said, her voice low and sultry as she adjusted her breasts inside her halter bra top and reluctantly edged closer to him, pushing a leg between his knees so she was standing further over him. It was the closest she could and would get to him.  
  
Champ leaned in closer and reached around her back to the straps holding her top on, his fingers unmoving but clear in suggestion. “I think I could get to know you a whole lot better.”   
  
The next thing Nicole knew, he’d gone.   
  
Champ had been hauled back off his seat by a short woman who delivered an impressive slap to the side of his face.   
  
“B-baby!” he spluttered, hands out. “I can explain.”  
  
“Save it. We’re _done_ , Champ.”  
  
Nicole took great pleasure in his crestfallen expression. In fact, it may have added several years to her life.   
  
He scrambled up from his knees, a red mark rapidly appearing on his cheek. “Waverly, I swear, we just talked.”  
  
“Right, and I’m Mother-frickin’-Teresa!” Waverly’s anger gave way to betrayal and she knew her voice would be thick when she spoke. She didn’t want to give her on-off again boyfriend of four years the satisfaction of hearing it, but she needed to. She needed to remember how pathetic she sounded, and no doubt looked as she cried over him. “I _believed_ you,” she said. “Every time. No matter what. But now I— I’m done. We’re done.”  
  
With one final watering, withering glare, Waverly looked away from him and instead set her sights on the dancer he was with. Nicole felt rooted to the spot.   
  
She was just _standing_ there as this woman, Waverly, had broken up with her terrible boyfriend; with whom Nicole had just been standing over him in practically nothing. Should she say something? Congratulations, he was a dead weight? Sorry you caught me about to begin a reluctant dance way too close to your man but a girl’s gotta make a living? Nicole was saved from making such a decision when Waverly brushed past her, head low, and made a quick escape.   
  
Probably for the best. Nicole wasn’t sure she would have made her feel better anyway. This gig sucked sometimes.  
  
Champ’s friends soon rallied around him and Nicole finally took her cue to leave. She blew out a long breath, signaling to Rosie that she was taking a quick break. As soon as she was in the back alone she finally allowed her shoulders to drop. Nicole threw on a robe and tied it around the middle, swapping her heels for flats.   
  
She went for her phone next, checking for any word from her new boss. Nothing. Not since a couple of hours prior, anyway. They always spoke before her shift, any new pieces of intel to share. It’d been a quiet couple of days. Quiet couple of weeks, truth be told.  
  
Nicole fired off a quick message to update her status and then pocketed it on her way to the restroom. She relished break times. It was difficult being on show so much, her every move scrutinised. The weight of the stares were enough, not to mention keeping up her persona while remembering why she was really there. Nicole had a whole new respect for the women who worked there and the protectiveness they each possessed for each other. Nicole had experienced it before but it could be different with other officers. Here, all the dancers were women. They were all on the same level and they knew it.   
  
Nicole heard her before she saw her.   
  
Faint sounds of sobbing pulled at her and she pushed the door open. She stared for a moment, trying to recall a name of one of the dancers, but when the woman twisted around all Nicole could do was stare.   
  
Waverly.   
  
“Shut the door.”  
  
Three simple words had been ordered with a surprising amount of authority for a woman currently mid-way through a breakdown. Even more surprising was the fire in her eyes. Jesus. Nicole really hoped this woman wasn’t about to throw down. You never knew. Even _in_ her uniform, she had been physically attacked. It happened more often than she ever would have guessed. People could be stupid. Remarkably so.  
  
Nicole followed the order dumbly, stepping further inside instead of backing far, far away. “Y’okay?” she asked cautiously.   
  
“Great.” Waverly glared. “What do you want?” She was a mess and she knew it, and now there was a beautiful dancer there to bear witness to the train wreck she’d allowed herself to become. Waverly imagined her to be one of Champ’s favourite dancers, and so by association Waverly declared her an enemy.   
  
“You’re in my restroom. The ones you want are left at the bar, last door in the hallway.”  
  
“ _You_....” She stabbed a furious pointer finger towards her newest nemesis. It didn’t matter to Waverly that her mascara wasn’t waterproof and had begun to burn her eyes. She blinked rapidly to soothe it. “You’re—”  
  
“Just doin’ my job, ma’am,” Nicole replied as gently as she could, ducking away inside the nearest stall.   
  
“Anything for an easy payout for girls like you, right?”  
  
“With all due respect,” Nicole began, voice slightly clipped as she struggled to remain unoffended, “your boyfriend came here all by himself. Any verbal abuse should probably be hurled his way instead of mine.”  
  
She was right.   
  
Waverly slumped down heavily in the single chair nestled in the corner by the sinks and dryer, a fresh wave of pain taking over her chest. There she was, _crying_ in a strip club because her boyfriend could never keep it in his pants. And she knew that, had known and excused it for a long time. Despite knowing better, her relationship with him had caused endless fights with her sister who knew she deserved more. She’d defended Champ for years, and for what?   
  
Wynonna will want his head on a stick when she finds out he was drooling over girls. Waverly couldn’t deny she kind of wanted the same thing, right now. How dare he do this. She was so _embarrassed_ over him humiliating her so publicly. Everybody would know this time. The last time he cheated, Waverly made him swear he would never look at another woman again. And he’d agreed, swore on his mother’s life and everything. He was still looking; interested in any pretty woman his eyes landed upon.   
  
His best friends had been there, too. She couldn’t wait to have Gus bar all of them the next time they came into the bar for a good, cheap night of drinks. Wynonna would have to be there for the added scare-factor. Champ had always been terrified of her older sister. Time to cash in on that.   
  
The toilet flushed and Waverly sniffed, swiping a finger over her cheek to brush a tear away. Her eyes fixated on an old ‘no smoking’ sign on one of the walls. Someone had put out their cigarette in the first ‘o’. It was probably _her_ ; the dancer who was brazenly washing her hands right next to her. She had some nerve. Waverly didn’t know if she smoked but she probably did. Probably did drugs as well, and stole from charity boxes.   
  
Waverly stuck her foot out petulantly.   
  
Nicole watched her do it in the mirror. God, Waverly was _beautiful_. Why the hell was she crying over a loser like Champ? She carefully stepped over Waverly’s foot to pull some paper towels free, taking extra care to dry her hands.   
  
“Why’s a girl like you crying over a guy like him, anyway?” Nicole couldn’t help but wonder.  
  
“What?” How dare this kleptomaniac drug-addicted stripper speak to her so calmly.  
  
“Sorry, but he’s kind of a dick.”  
  
“Kind of?”  
  
Nicole smiled despite no sign of one on the other woman’s face. “You can do better,” she shrugged. A hell of a lot better.   
  
“That a fact?” Waverly retorted flatly.  
  
“Sure is.”  
  
Waverly met her eyes and they were annoyingly bright, as was the dimpled smile. “What do you know?”  
  
“Everything, can’t you tell?”  
  
Waverly puffed out a breath and Nicole pulled a couple of tissues free from a box on the counter, offering them to Waverly who accepted them wordlessly, wiping at her face and eyes to clear her skin from the black tracks.   
  
“I’m new to the job,” Nicole admitted. “Parts of it really suck, and I’m sorry you got hurt. If it makes you feel any better, the last two weeks have been pretty terrible and tonight I’m going home to my chocolate stash _and_  Ben & Jerry, and I’m going to indulge until I can’t breathe.”  
  
Waverly made the same small sound of dismissal.   
  
The earlier view she’d had of Nicole’s body had been _very_ close up. The only indulgence the other woman could possibly have, Waverly suspected, was an altoid. She was lean and soft and had curves in all the right places. She probably didn’t even have to work out. A second later Waverly remembered Nicole’s job and conceded that okay, maybe she was active a lot.   
  
Like she was about to be with her then-boyfriend.   
  
Waverly was suddenly tired. Emotionally exhausted from the most unsatisfying, least rewarding relationship she’d ever had in her life. She’d been holding onto him tightly for the past several months, making extra effort every single day like they somehow had something worth saving. What a crock of shit.   
  
She was still alone in the end. Earp’s never got the happy ending. Not that she was ever especially happy with Champ, but she had a boyfriend. Had the title of girlfriend. On the outside, she had part of a normal life. The only part that would ever pass as normal.   
  
“If he’s still out there, could you get rid of him?”  
  
“You want me to take him out? ‘Cause I will.”  
  
Waverly hated herself for the makings of a smile, however quickly she trained it off her face and made up for it with an unsettled expression of melancholy. “Maybe he could be thrown out? Hard. Super hard. Like, to the ground?”  
  
It sounded like a pleasure.  
  
“I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
Waverly’s brows pinched. “I really don’t want him to see me like this,” she said. “Or at all, and I gotta go… drink a bottle of something with my sister and wake up with a raging headache so I have something else to focus on.”  
  
Nicole nodded. “Sure. I can go check.” She waited a little too long to do anything and spoke again before she lost her nerve. “If he's still here, you could let me make it up to you for earlier?” It looked as though Waverly was considering it enough to quiz her on what she meant by that, and then Nicole's phone rang. 

  
She’d almost forgotten about it. A quick check to the screen told her it was work related. Her real job. She forwarded it to voicemail.  
  
“Important?” Waverly asked.  
  


Yes.   
  
“Probably not.”  
  
“Boyfriend?”  
  
Nicole laughed, small and pretty. “Definitely not.” Her phone rang again. Work. Something was up, he wouldn’t call twice to exchange pleasantries. Nicole pushed her teeth into the plumpness of her bottom lip as she sent the call to her voicemail a second time, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She never ignored a call unless she was dancing. Nicole ventured a look to Waverly. “They’re going to call back, and I have to take it. I’m sorry. It might take a while.”

  
Waverly shrugged and then her phone buzzed in her back pocket. It was Wynonna. Oh, thank God. They were so in sync sometimes. “My sister’s calling,” she said, watching the regret fall away from Nicole’ face. “The way out?”   
  
Next time it was a text message. Nicole held the door open and followed Waverly back out to a corridor, giving her directions to get out of the club without leaving through the front. They didn’t have time to say goodbye, both of their phones were ringing and buzzing and Nicole hurried off to answer before she was fired.    
  
Waverly answered as soon as she was out in the cold and she had sniffed and cleared her throat. “Yeah?”   
  
“Hello to you, too,” Wynonna greeted. “Where are you?”   
  
“At Shorty's, where I’ve been all day.”   
  
“Ha, nice try, I was there not even thirty minutes ago. Said you’d skipped out. You’re not with the chump, are you?”   
  
Waverly’s face twisted at the thought of him. “No.”   
  
“Good. We got the case, need your help. We need our best researcher while Dolls and I do a stakeout.”   
  
She was their  _ only  _ researcher. Nonetheless, a distraction was exactly what she needed. Drinking with Wynonna would have been better but there was always later. Waverly opened her car door and climbed up. “Where?”   
  
“Pussy Willows.” Wynonna cackled. “My phone’s charged, I’m taking videos of his face the whole time, I swear. I’ve got so many singles, I’m going to get one of the girls to—”   
  
“Why?” Waverly shook her head. “I mean, did something happen there?”    
  
“Not yet.” Wynonna gasped loudly, over-dramatic. “Oh, but it’s about to!”   
  
Shit. 

 

Waverly glanced up to a black SUV approaching and shrunk back in her seat. She locked her doors when she saw her sister fling her door open before Dolls had finished slowing the car to a stop. She cracked the window.    
  
Wynonna pulled on Waverly’s door fruitlessly and leveled her with a hard stare. “Tell me you didn’t come here by yourself.”   
  
“I’m not stupid.”   
  
“No you’re not, but you know people have been murdered and you’re here,  _ alone _ . Why?” Wynonna noticed Waverly’s eyes and the tell-tale signs of her crying. She softened as she always did. “Whose ass to I need to put a bullet in?”   
  
Waverly eventually unlocked the doors and gave Wynonna the highlights, listened to several of the ways her sister was going to make Champ regret ever walking over the Earp’s. It stung a little with each revenge scenario, humiliation still very much raw, but if there was ever anything Waverly was grateful for, it was Wynonna. Always. She was always stronger with her around. 

 

Wynonna still had her arm slung over Waverly's shoulder when Dolls was beside the car, his mouth turning to a quick press of sympathy. For what, he didn't know. Seemed appropriate. It was still strange to see him express any sort of emotion but Waverly appreciated him trying. 

 

“Glad you're in one piece,” he said in lieu of a greeting. 

 

In retrospect, Waverly had acted foolishly. Sure she was pissed when a happy hour regular drunkenly informed her of her boyfriend’s current whereabouts,  but she was rarely _confrontational_. Especially enough to go to Pussy Willows when there was a current investigation underway to uncover a killer who had savagely murdered four women so far, all dancers in strip clubs around the local area. 

 

She hadn't even thought about it. Getting there was something she needed to do and it couldn't wait, not for anything.   
  


“Thanks.”

 

“You wanna come in?” With a final reassuring kiss to her head and squeeze to her shoulder, Wynonna distanced herself. “Laugh at Dolls with me? Might make you feel better."

 

Waverly wasn’t sure it would help all that much. Wynonna was far more interested in gaining any sort of reaction from him than she was. It was cute; something she knew not to comment out loud on just yet. Besides, Champ could still be inside. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to see Wynonna go all  _ Wynonna  _ if she saw him, and she didn’t want to see that dancer again. Waverly knew she hadn’t been very kind.    
  
It’d been a long time since she’d screwed up a first impression and she didn’t have it in her to correct it. For now —a while, she suspected, she was done proving herself to anybody. No more.    
  
Instead, Waverly made a note of what Dolls wanted her to start with when she got back to his offices at the station, nodding with each new request.    
  
Four women had been murdered in the past six weeks, all in or around strip clubs in the area. Each of them had been found badly beaten and strangled with a deep gash to their throat, right through to the spinal cord. Each of the bodies had been found dumped, intestines spilled around them. CCTV hadn’t come through and cameras had either been dummy, damaged, or a dead end.   
  
  


  
  
  
  
  


Hours, dry eyes, and one major twinge in her neck later and Waverly was no further forward. Leaned over a large book (one of about a dozen scattered over the table), she squinted as she read quickly, her lips occasionally mouthing what she was reading. So far there wasn’t much luck to be had in the few resources she’d been able to get her hands on and no revenants any of them had ever encountered had that kind of sick kink.    
  
She couldn’t figure it. If it was a revenant, usually they  _ wanted  _ the Earp’s to know it was them for an added fear factor. This time there had been nothing.    
  
Maybe it was something else. God, she’d read about so many things over the years. Revenants, witches, shapeshifters, vampires, skinwalkers. Granted that she hadn’t been exposed to all of them, still none of them particularly screamed out at her.    
  
None of the victims had anything in common besides their work situation. They each had different backgrounds, all from out of town and arrived at different times over the years, were two different races, didn’t know each other or have any mutual friends according to friends and family, social media and their phone records.   

  
It seemed random.    
  
She wouldn’t say it for sure, but it did appear that way so far. There was absolutely nothing to go on except for possible future locations: Pussy Willows and Shady Ladies. The idea of a serial killer getting started in the town was scary enough, nevermind adding in the fact that they had no specifics for a victim other than being outwardly female.    
  
It was late. Really late. Too late to be poring over police documents and take in any new information she may have missed the other times she’d read over them. Wynonna had checked in a handful of times to make sure she was okay and to see about any progress made. Truth be told, Waverly didn’t have much to report but Wynonna had been encouraging each time.    
  
By three AM, Waverly called it a night. She was exhausted and the drive back to the homestead was easy enough with deserted roads. She’d fallen into bed with a bounce, too tired to even put her nightgown on after shedding her clothes.    
  
She was out like a light. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Not a lot happened in the next couple of days. They were no further forward in their mission to uncover the killer, Champ had called Waverly thirty-six times begging to talk and make things right until Wynonna, Doc, and Dolls paid him a home visit. Waverly hadn’t been bothered since. Doc, in his own words, heroically took on Shady Ladies all by himself. Nothing to report there yet either.    
  
Waverly didn’t help out at Shorty’s for the next week. Gus wouldn’t hear of her protests, which admittedly weren’t exactly strong. That reason alone was why she hadn’t slept properly since recent events took place. She got a solid, uninterrupted four hours a night if she was lucky. There was no mental or physical stimulation without her usual routine. Okay, so being a barmaid in a town she knew like the back of her hand wasn’t exactly what most would call  _ challenging _ , but she worked hard for her money. Knew most people’s personal storylines and made people feel like she cared about each and every one of them. Waverly was attentive and caring and had a lot of people’s respect even if she didn’t know it.    
  
By the third day of exhausting any and all methods of research and leads, Waverly slammed her notebook shut. Doc, Dolls, and Wynonna had been with her most of the day but there was simply nothing to report. Same facts. Same possibilities. Same dead ends.   
  
All they could do was wait.    
  
Waverly blew out a large scented candle meant to evoke feelings of calmness and tranquility to help induce sleep— waste of money, truly, but it did smell good: sweet and warm. She picked up her coat from the back of her chair and swung it around her shoulders. If everybody else got to spend the nights away from the office then damn it, so did she.    
  
  


 

  
  


The club was heaving when she got there.    
  
Waverly wasn’t entirely sure if that was the usual crowd. She hadn’t paid much attention to anything other than Champ the last (and first) time she’d been there, but it did seem to be busy. She’d never seen so many gallant men ready to protect the women of Purgatory out of the goodness of their hearts. Bless their souls.   
  
The bar itself was full and it took Waverly a little longer than she thought it would to check for Dolls and Wynonna. The music was loud but not enough that she couldn’t hear her own voice when she called for either of them, or that the cheers and wolf-whistles didn’t gain her attention each time.    
  
She didn’t know why they did.    
  


It was always an attractive woman dancing. Nothing to see there.    
  
Except Waverly couldn’t help but look.    
  
She sent a message to ask Wynonna where she was hiding and to say she was impressed that she and Dolls had managed to lay so low. Waverly checked the place twice before being in the right place at the right time and managed to jump up and snag a seat at the bar. She ordered a mocktail complete with a paper umbrella and took in her surroundings.    
  
There were a lot of distractions, she mused idly. If she was there to observe the whole scene, she’d definitely need help. There were so many bodies and faces, so much audible stimulation that pulled her in different directions all at once. Waverly took a long sip of her drink and swung around to see the dancers again. None of them were fazed by any of it. They appeared to enjoy the large number of attendees. She supposed the counted on it.   
  
Waverly couldn’t help but wonder if one of them was the killer. One of them, or someone in the crowd. Maybe someone she’d walked past or said ‘excuse me’ to as she squeezed past.    
  
She looked to her phone and fired off another message to her sister. Where the hell was she?    
  
Once her drink was half gone, patience on a long vacation, Waverly slid down from her seat and began making her way through a newer though still sizable crowd. Her phone vibrated into her hand and she read it as she walked.    
  
_ ‘I know you’re not stupid enough to be at pee-dubs alone again, so I’m not reacting to that. Sorry for going a little MIA though baby girl, slight change of plans tonight. We joined forces with Doc and have news. En route with hugs, beer, and takeout. Dolls paid so get the fancy paper napkins and plates ready?’  _ _  
_ _  
_ Curiosity well and truly piqued.    
  
Waverly was grateful for the blind faith her sister had in her intelligence. The drive back to the station would have to be a quick one. She was acknowledging Wynonna’s message with a response of her own when she came to an unexpected stop, bumping right into another body.    
  
They were taller than she was, and she automatically reached forward to steady herself on the closest solid surface. Waverly’s hand settled on warm, soft skin instead. Her eyes rocketed, phone forgotten, settling on Nicole who was wearing about as much as she was the first time she laid eyes on her. Waverly retracted her hand so quickly she ended up thumping a large man behind her. Luckily, she didn’t have his attention.    
  
The same thing couldn’t be said for Nicole. She recognised Waverly the moment she saw her.    
  
“Waverly.”   
  
“And…  _ you _ .”    
  
Nicole smiled, moving forward a fraction to let somebody by behind her. “How are you? I’ve been thinking about you.”   
  
If Waverly didn’t know any better, she’d say that was sincere.    
  
“Good,” she said. “Better,” she added, less perfunctory.    
  
There didn’t seem to be anybody with Waverly. Nicole had spotted her a little while ago on a sweep for Lonnie. She couldn’t let her leave without saying anything. It was probably silly. After all, she was there to do a job and that did not include worrying over a stranger’s impression of her. But still, she worried. It was who Nicole was.    
  
“Sorry about the other day,” Nicole said. “You here for a dance? I’m on in ten minutes.”   
  
Waverly swallowed hard. “Oh, no. No. I was in the area and was...thirsty, so.” Her head bobbed pathetically and she tried not to outwardly grimace when she saw a spark of what looked suspiciously like amusement light up Nicole’s eyes.   
  
“I see. Can I get you something to drink? Bartender makes a mean cocktail if you ask right. Or mock, if that’s more your thing.”   
  
Waverly didn’t know her name, knew she’d been offensive the last (and first) time they’d spoken, and yet there she was being friendly. Waverly was sure she didn’t deserve it. She was also still  _ gorgeous _ .    
  
“I’m—appropriately hydrated as of a few minutes ago, but thank you.”   
  
“Sure.”   
  
“Thanks.” When the floor didn’t open up per a silent plea, Waverly began to sidestep away. “I gotta…” she trailed off, jabbing a thumb somewhere behind.  Her body lurched forward with an unexpected shoulder from a passing male on his way back to the bar. She showed her teeth in a quick exaggerated but good-humoured wince and spun around to make the fastest escape possible.   
  
“I’ll see you around?” Nicole shouted over the music and hum of the nearest crowd. She watched Waverly until there was a large set of double doors between them.    
  
  
  
In order to get back to the station as soon as possible, Waverly mentally added an ‘ish’ to each speed limit sign and parked in between two spaces, her tyres squealing to a stop. She jumped down and raced past two officers standing outside having a smoke. Their expressions clearly conveyed that she was lucky she was so well liked and was working with the new Deputy Marshall taking up residence in their building.    
  
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Waverly raced past them on her way around the building. She could hear a loud engine coughing in the distance. She didn’t need to look to know it was Doc. Wynonna wouldn’t be far behind.    
  
Fortunately the station wasn’t particularly busy and she sped through without causing any damage or bodily harm to anyone, going straight for the makeshift kitchen. Waverly rummaged through two cupboards and drawers until she found the ‘ _ Happy Retirement _ ’ paper plates and napkins leftover from Bob leaving a little over a month ago and took them to the BBD office.    
  
Nothing if not efficient, Waverly was hunched over an upside down book when Wynonna walked in.    
  
“Ugh, you’re still  _ working _ ? Nerd alert.” Wynonna leaned down behind her sister, arms looped around her neck. “Step away from the books.”   
  
Waverly smiled, head briefly leaned against Wynonna’s arm. “You said something about news?”   
  
“Right! We have some.”   
  
“Do I have to guess?”   
  
Doc and Dolls approached the table with beer and food and Wynonna moved to sweep her arm over it, clearing a large space so they could all eat together. She took the seat next to Waverly. “Doc wanted to tell you.”   
  
Waverly looked to him expectantly as he took a seat and removed his hat. His eyes were alight with pride. “Now I’ve been excited since I found out. Almost couldn’t drive here.”   
  
Dolls shoved a white carton in front of everyone and left a couple in the middle so they could share. He pushed Wynonna’s over with the flaps already open and wordlessly handed over chopsticks, gaining a wink for his efforts.    
  
Upon the pregnant pause, Waverly played along. “Found out what?”   
  
Doc looked almost childlike in his glee. “Why, Shady Ladies is nothin’ but a fine establishment. Checked it out myself. Asked all the questions… we can scratch it off.”   
  
“Tick it off,” Dolls chimed up.   
  
Doc nodded and continued. “What d’ya reckon? Not bad for a day’s work?”   
  
It was closer to a week but she let him have it. Waverly’s eyes flicked to her sister who had her head tipped back, mouth hanging open in a grin as she lowered an impolite amount of noodles into it.    
  
“Oh…” He looked so earnestly pleased at his apparent discovery that all she could do was nod and smile. “Wow. That’s great, Doc.”   
  
Wynonna’s eyebrows were higher on her forehead when she regarded Waverly, relishing the moment. What? She didn’t tell her she had  _ big  _ news. No, they’d still be checking out Shady Ladies more thoroughly out of precaution. Not having the heart to question Doc, she accepted his victory (to his face) and she and Dolls would have to go back there to check everything was as  _ fine  _ as dear ol’ Doc claimed.    
  
In turn, with Doc as wingman, Wynonna would have to send Waverly to Pussy Willows over the next few days. She just hoped Waverly didn’t get herself into any trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Waverly Earp stood in her bedroom and stared at her reflection in the large mirror before her. She wore her hair straight and down and alternated between tucking a lock behind her ear and pulling it back out. Her thumb wiped a faint smudge of lipstick from under her lip, unable to decide if she wanted to wear any or not. Did she really want to go all out? It’d been applied and removed twice. 

 

Waverly rolled her shoulders back and took in her appearance. Not half bad. Her favourite wedges always worked wonders for her legs and she held open each side of a black faux fur coat to reveal the dress she'd chosen: gold, tiny, clung in all the right places, and was totally and completely impractical for the well below zero temperatures Purgatory was currently experiencing. It was perfect.

 

Perfect for blending in a little more, that is. 

 

She was due to begin her first real stakeout without Wynonna. Sure, her sister would be on the other end of a phone the entire night and she’d have Doc hanging around the club somewhere but she was being  _ trusted _ with something huge and a determined smile took residence upon her face.

 

Wynonna walked in just as Waverly was reapplying lipstick, a loud wolf-whistle causing Waverly to pause and laugh. 

 

“Well, you sure hit every branch down on the ugly tree,” Wynonna muttered as she climbed over a mountain of clothes on Waverly’s bed, throwing herself somewhere in the middle of it. She picked up a decorative pillow her sister loved so much and held it to her stomach. For some reason, Waverly smiled at her. “What? I’m serious. That whistle was for me. You’re gross, you can't leave the house like that.”

 

“I’ll be okay, Wynonna. I'm ready.”

 

“I’m just trying to save you from a whole night filled with assholes being mean ‘cause you’re hideous.” She pulled on a frayed edge, twirling the thread around her finger. “By all means ignore me entirely.”

 

Waverly perched on the edge of the mattress. “Doc’s gonna be with me.”

 

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

 

Waverly smiled. “You know he’d die for us.”

 

Wynonna knew that, though part of her suspected it to be his preferred fate rather than certain agonising torture at the hands of Waverly or herself should anything ever happen to either of them. 

 

“Yeah, well, he’d better.”

 

“Oh, come on.” Waverly slugged her in the leg. “You know you’d miss him.”

 

“I’d miss  _ you _ , ya turd.” Wynonna sat forward, deadly serious. “I swear to God, if you do anything more than recon tonight or actively  _ pursue _ danger, your ass is toast, got it?”

 

“I got it.”

 

“I'm serious, you’ll be benched the rest of the season.”

 

“I said I got it!”

 

Doc appeared in the doorway and leaned against it, hat pressed to his chest. His head inclined at the sharp look he was given, knowing the importance of tonight. “Carriage awaits, m’lady.”

 

Waverly smiled at him. “Thanks, Doc. I'll be out in a minute?” 

 

He nodded, turning his attention to the other Earp. “May I suggest a chicken broth for that bout of sickness, Wynonna?” 

 

“Dolls is on it.”

 

Once he left, Waverly grabbed Wynonna's hand and tugged until she was close enough to lean forward and hug. “Love you.”   
  
Wynonna hung on a little tighter, a hard look on her face. She remembered why she was doing this, sending her little sister out to battle —no she was not being dramatic, and tried to hold onto it. Waverly deserved the best and she usually got the worst. Herself included, at times. This could be a turning point in her life now that she’d lost the dead weight of someone who didn’t deserve her. This could be a way to show Waverly that she was more.    
  
Already a brilliant asset to the team they’d become at Black Badge, irreplaceable in Wynonna’s life, she could still be so much more than that. Part of getting there would be far away from any cosy comfort zones either of them had. She just hoped Waverly had stopped wanting to be  _ her _ when she was so, so much more already.    
  
Once, when Waverly was young, she’d dressed up as Wynonna for Halloween, complete with a toy gun. Before and during the accident, Waverly had only ever seen her older sister use a gun for good: to protect them. To protect her. A little under two years had faded the memories and harshness of what happened that night with Willa and her father, and seeing as Gus and Curtis hadn’t seemed to like Halloween much, an unspoken tension she’d never picked up on as a child, Waverly had snuck into the room Wynonna used when she was allowed to stay over for a weekend sometimes and grabbed a black hoodie that still smelled like her.    
  
It came down to her knees but went perfectly with her black jeans and red converse. To complete the look, she’d had to promise to help Chrissy Nedley with her homework in order to get it: a toy gun that was a little big for her hands.    
  
Waverly had snuck out of the house alone, figuring if she just went to a few of the closest neighbours she could be there and back without Gus and Curtis being any the wiser. She’d been successful at the first two houses but the third were a couple of kids from junior high. They’d laughed at her as she stood on their porch, practically swamped by a black hoodie, looking up at them expectantly.    
  
“Who are you supposed to be, Annie Oakley?” one of the boys said.   
  
Waverly had scowled. “No, asshole, I’m Wynonna. Wynonna Earp.”    
  
It rolled off her tongue with ease, almost as if it were Wynonna herself. The stunned stares were the same from each of the boys and their mother who had appeared at the door with a large bowl of candy right on time.    
  
Waverly had been grounded for a month but she hadn’t cared.    
  
She’d ran upstairs to Gus and Curtis’s room with the other landline in it and dialled a new but memorised phone number to tell Wynonna all about her night, that it was the best one since  _ then  _ because it was almost like having her back. It made her feel strong like Wynonna, that even if the second scariest thing in the world were to happen to her, she would be able to step up and take care of it.    
  
Waverly remembered that particular Halloween even now, the one where she dressed as a hero, but the details had long faded away. She’d forgotten things such as the amount of candy she actually got that night, what Gus yelled at her when she got the neighbours’ house, and the way Wynonna cried and begged her not to turn into her, not ever.    
  


  
  


 

  
  
“The plan?” Waverly prompted, holding a hand to Doc’s chest before they walked inside the club.    
  
“Run into a whole lotta danger and get us both killed, of course.”   
  
“I’m serious.”   
  
Doc smiled. “Darlin’, I realise women have never liked it when I suggest to relax but you would do us both a favour by doing so. The plan is loose, better for us not to have to remember a whole script. Makes for more natural interaction.”   
  
“But I don’t know you, you don’t know me,” Waverly prompted. “We don’t sit closeby or have a drink together. We’re in there three hours, tops. Wynonna will storm the place if I’m not home by the time I promised. I’ll leave first and wait in the car. I’ll send you a message in case you’re...distracted.”    
  
“On my pocket phone.” Dolls pulled it out of his coat to demonstrate he’d remembered to bring it along.    
  
“Cell phone,” Waverly corrected.    
  
“Right.”    
  
She took a deep breath and shivered on the exhale. “Let’s do this.”   
  
Doc blindly pushed a sizeable roll of singles into her palm. “Stakeouts are all about uncovering information,” he said. “And learnin’ should always be fun.” A chanced look down and he caught a reluctant smile on Waverly’s mouth; twisted as she shoved the money deep into her coat pocket.    
  
They walked inside and Doc quickly made himself scarce without a glance back.    
  
Wynonna hadn’t asked for too much on the first run. She wanted the names of the two women she and Dolls hadn’t managed to get so far, and any background information Doc and Waverly could prise from them. Something to start with. Clear photographs of the dancers were needed for the chart Waverly had made a start on already, provided she could get a subtle enough shot and  _ not  _ get herself thrown out of the building by one of several Mr. Muscle’s dotted around.    
  
By the time Waverly had a drink in her hand and settled into a chair in front of an empty, singular stage, she’d given herself a pep-talk effective enough to diffuse any sign of trepidation. She was ready.    
  
She took a small sip of a club soda and glanced up in time with the opening music and lights to a dancer. There was an air of excitement to accompany whooping and hollering and Waverly found it to be infectious; enough so that the small, curious smile was genuine. As was the way it faltered once she caught sight of Nicole.   
  
The unoccupied chairs next to Waverly were snatched up and she glanced away when Nicole spotted her, surprise flashing across her face. Not that Waverly could blame her. Of all the stages to sit at, it had to be hers.    
  
Waverly was seated, rather predictably, next to men. She could feel the weight of their bewildered stares and lifted her chin higher, leaning her weight on the arm of the wooden chair and shifted to cross her legs and take in the scene before her.    
  
Might as well have some fun before a restraining order was placed against her.    
  
She watched wordlessly, eyes following the fluid movements Nicole’s body made.    
  
Human and curious what other girls had that she didn’t, enough so that her ex-boyfriend sabotaged what was left of a long term relationship to go to Pussy Willows regularly, Waverly had spent some part of recent sleepless nights wondering what exactly  _ that  _ was. She’d danced like that for him before, upon his request, and she’d always ended up  _ laughing  _ when he tried to return the favour.    
  
Waverly wasn’t laughing anymore.    
  


Nicole sat on a stage chair with a delicate arch to her back as she ran a hand up and down her bare thigh until it skated over the curve of her ass to travel upwards and paw at the soft weight of a breast and back down again, this time to her foot. She rose and bunched each side of her short skirt in her hands, hips moving quickly and smoothly in practised rhythm.    
  
She stalked forward, each exaggerated step displaying the length and soft definition to her legs. Nicole placed a hand against a wall prop and parted her feet, leaning over at the waist to press her head next to her hand and make quick work of rotating her hips.    
  
Nicole turned, hips never stopping, a hand constantly skating over the curve of her hip until her back was pressed against the wall. She slid down it slowly, snaking all the way down until she was on her knees crawling towards the front of the stage.    
  
Most of her audience cheered and whistled and she looked up from under her lashes at them, pleased. Nicole didn’t look at Waverly once.    
  
She folded her legs up and turned her weight from one foot to another, pushing up into a grand circle. One hand was pushed through her hair, the other travelling a familiar path down her body to brush over every available inch as she seamlessly rolled her body in one wave, then two, then three.    
  
At the end of the first set, Waverly licked her dry lips and sipped at what was left of her drink, glancing upwards as the men left to refill their beers. She watched Nicole gather up the cash with a gentle clear of her throat.    
  
Finally, Nicole regarded her with an amused smirk and Waverly could do nothing to stop the flushed crooked smile on her face at the sight of it.    
  
“So, uh, you are perhaps the  _ last  _ person on earth I expected to be dancing for tonight,” Nicole said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”   
  
Waverly shrugged, going for indifferent but failed. “Research.”   
  
“Ah.” Nicole soon tilted her head. “Why?”   
  
“I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, why my ex-boyfriend liked coming here so much.”   
  
Nicole understood on some level. She hoped her sympathy didn’t come across as patronising as she feared. “How’s it looking?”   
  
“I’ll let you know.”    
  
“Please do,” she returned, intrigued. She’d felt the heavy weight of Waverly’s stare each second she’d danced and hadn’t dared to catch it, fearing she wouldn’t have been able to tear her eyes away. Waverly was… a vision.   
  
“Well, I gotta get ready for my next set. You sticking around a while?”   
  
“I’ll be here.”   
  
Waverly blew out a long breath the moment she was left alone.    
  
Across the club she spotted Doc in a sea of men, his thick moustache setting him apart from the rest. He was seated with a single scotch for the night, eyes fixated on a woman dancing on the stage closest to him. Waverly smiled, he looked like he was having fun. 

 

Last time she was there she found it difficult to separate everything: the lights, the noises, the people. The dancers. Waverly took it in slowly. The lights and music she’d had time to grow used to, and she let her eyes leisurely flicker over the audience and club-goers. 

 

At a table set to the side of the bar, Waverly did a double take in the dim lighting. A man sat alone, tall at slightly over six foot, square shoulders, and totally countrified with his dark pants and red shirt, a white hat hanging around the back of his neck. 

 

He stood out to her like a flare in the dark. 

 

Her gaze lingered curiously. He was new. She'd never come across him once in town, she would have remembered.  
  


She checked to see if Doc had spotted the newest patron but he seemed far too enthralled with the dancer mere feet away from him.

 

Waverly conceded that the other man was simply sitting there with a beer taking in the show, viewing as many dances at a time as he could see, but there was something about him. 

 

“Waves?” 

 

She grimaced and cast her eyes away to Champ. He looked as surprised as she felt panicked. His timing always was impeccable. He crouched down next to her chair and covered her hand with his. 

 

“You here to see me?” Champ asked hopefully.

 

God, what was she going to tell him? Nope, possible demon recon, or just here for a dance?

 

She drew her hand back away from his touch. “I wanted a drink, Champ.”

 

“I mean, you… you work in a bar, so.” He placed his hand on her knee instead. “Let’s just talk, babe. You’ll totally see the funny side of the story.”

 

Waverly breathed out a laugh. “Oh, yeah?”

 

“I’ve been an ass, I admit that, but hear me out. You want to, or else why would you be here?”

 

“Maybe she’s seeing what a good time feels like.”

 

Waverly turned to see the woman who had held Doc’s attention for so long. She arched a daring brow at him. 

 

“What?” Waverly asked, clearly missing something.

 

The woman offered her hand. “Sorry sweetheart, I'm Rosie. Just started my rounds and I spotted  _ the  _ biggest d-bag trying to win forgiveness. You’ve gotta be the girl, right? Had to come over and hear some of the excuses.”

 

“Yeah she’s the girl,” Champ confirmed, annoyed. “Get lost.”

 

“Ex,” Waverly corrected sharply, trying to see around Rosie to the gentleman in the red shirt. He’d gone, along with her patience. Champ had ruined a potential suspect to add to her board. She was there to help, that went without saying, but she was there to show Wynonna that she  _ could  _ do it, not get caught up in drama. 

 

“Go, or I’m calling Wynonna.”

 

“I’m really scared,” he mocked, face dropping once Waverly pulled her phone from her purse. “Okay, all right! Jesus! I’m gone.” Champ gritted his teeth at Waverly's stubborn face. They were done. “For good.” 

 

Waverly gave him a tight, false smile. 

 

He walked around her and she held her phone up for him to see and keep walking. As soon as he was a safe distance away, Waverly lowered her arm again and muttered her confirmation of being alright before she was left alone for Rosie to do her rounds. 

 

Waverly didn't see her go backstage to see Nicole or the way Champ was forcibly ejected by security mere minutes later, sprawled out on the ground spluttering out empty threats.

 

The stage closest to Waverly dimmed and she remained in position while men who had been watching Rosie were graced with a different woman. The only person who moved was Doc who had retired to the bar for the time being. 

 

So that’s what the dancers did. They rotated. People watched one dancer do one set and then either moved around to find a particular favourite, or stayed put for the full variety so to speak.  Eventually the dancers made the rounds on their audience, working them to pay for a private dance. 

 

When a new song began, a little trashy if she was honest about it, Nicole lit up the same stage and Waverly leaned back in her seat.    
  
  


  
  
  


 

Another drink and a while later,  Waverly found the customer’s restroom and checked she was alone before dialling Wynonna to check in. It only had to ring twice.    
  
“Hey, sis.”   
  
It was loud where Wynonna was. It went quiet quickly, like she’d ducked into the restroom herself or popped outside. “You good?” was the first thing out of Wynonna’s mouth.    
  
“I’m fine.”   
  
“You get anything? ‘Cause I gotta say, it’s looking like Doc was right about things here. This place is drier than my panties the last time Carl hit on me. And the  _ girls _ ? Talk about desperate.”   
  
“Wynonna,” Waverly chastised. “I got a name. Rosie.”   
  
“That the banging ginger, or—”   
  
“No, I don’t have that yet. Have Dolls add the name to the list when you get back to BBD?”   
  
“I’ll get it done,” Wynonna promised.    
  
“Dolls is fine.”   
  
“Hey, I know I’m the dumb sister but I know how to spell Rosie, thank you.”   
  
“The handwriting should match the rest of the board,” Waverly rationalised. “Please? You're the best?”   
  
Wynonna left her to stew for several terse seconds and then gave in. “Fine. And you fell out of a tree, remember? If I’m the beauty, you’re definitely the brains.” She gasped. “How many creepy dudes have hit on you?”   
  
Waverly rolled her eyes. “A couple,” she muttered.   
  
Wynonna laughed loudly. “God, you’re adorable.” She breathed in deep. “Okay, you scored points for checking in. My sanity thanks you. Now, get back out there and get the other name. Whatever it takes.”   
  
“I can do it.”   
  
“I mean not  _ whatever  _ it takes, but you know what I mean. You’re an Earp, work the place however you need.”   
  
“Yep,” Waverly replied, a little distracted. She’d have to talk to that dancer again, actually form coherent sentences.     
  
“You’re—” Wynonna hesitated.  “You’re not just, like, sat at the bar the whole time, right?” she asked. “All stiff and out of place? The guy who runs the place is a total dead-end, anyway. Wouldn’t give me shit when I grilled him.”   
  
“I’m not stiff!”   
  
“Jesus, Waves, you gotta get into it. Take some cash and enjoy a dance or two.”   
  
Waverly chewed the inside of her cheek, pensive. “Is that what you do?”   
  
“ _ Yeah _ .” The way she said it sounded suspiciously like  _ duh. _ “Has to be some perks, right? Girls move better than guys, that’s just a fact, and they work fuckin’ hard. At least we’re hot, right?” She shrugged. “I’m sure they’d rather be dancing for us than a  _ lot  _ of their regulars. Especially you; they’ll want to eat you up.”   
  


Waverly’s eyes widened. Shit. She’d watched the same woman dance for over an hour and she hadn’t even paid her. She shook out of it. “I gotta go. Thanks for the advice, sis.”

  
Waverly shoved her phone into her bag and got back out there. She had Rosie’s name and Doc had a knack of getting information out of people so he probably had  _ something  _ on her, and she had a description of a man of interest. Not bad for a first run. There was just one thing missing. 

  
  
  


The later it got, the busier Pussy Willows was.    
  
Waverly had to work at getting through the crowds and when she managed to get a good look at the stage on the far right next to the mechanical bull, her brows knotted in disappointment. It was empty.   
  
Nicole was making her rounds, different to the other girls in the way that she never actually had to dance privately for any of the clientele. She’d always had a good eye and a better instinct on people, and she was beginning to know the regular crowd. Enough so that she’d spotted someone new: a tall, handsome man with striking eyes and what unfortunately resembled roadkill above his top lip. She’d never seen a moustache so thick. She didn’t know they’d made a comeback in the leading men’s trend.     
  
He stood out. Nicole had asked Rosie about him, wary of the way he was suddenly hanging around someone she would call a friend. Turned out his name was John Henry. How very unique.    
  
Nicole spotted Doc leaning against the wooden railing surrounding the stage area, chatting away to several of the regulars. She’d almost made it to him when her path was blocked. The tension gradually fell from her face once she registered who it was blocking her way.    
  
Waverly.    
  
A small, friendly smile played out on her face, happy to see her. “Thought I might have scared you away.”   
  
“Do you want to go in the back?” Waverly blurted before she could think twice and talk herself out of it. Her heart beat wildly inside her chest as she looked up, waiting for the response. It took longer than she thought, not even an expression giving the other woman away, and Waverly’s gaze flitted to the bar where a group of friends had burst out laughing in unison, lost in their own conversation.    
  
Nicole lifted Waverly’s head up with a finger at her chin until she’d lost some of her hesitation. “Your research?”   
  
“Yeah,” Waverly breathed. She swallowed hard, aware of the fact that she was there to determine if this woman in front of her was a cold-blooded killer when the amount of gentle warmth in her brown eyes surely confirmed not.    
  
Waverly looked down at her hand being held and blindly followed as she was lead through the crowd.    
  
The room was dark when they got there, dim even with the lights on. Dark patterned wallpaper adorned the walls and a couch sat directly in the middle of the room. The music system was in the corner all ready to go. Waverly inhaled through her nose and headed straight for the couch.    
  
She sat properly, shoulders back, knees together.    
  
Nicole regarded her curiously with no small amount of amusement. “Waverly, what are you doin’?”   
  
Waverly gasped and reached into her jacket pocket to reveal the thick roll of singles Doc had given to her earlier. “Right. Here.” She offered the whole lot. “I don’t know how much you...charge.”   
  
Had that come out as insulting as it sounded? She hoped not.    
  
Nicole joined her on the couch, legs crossed at the knee. She took the money and held it in the air between them. “Is this for now, or earlier?” Waverly was mortified, it was written all over her face. “‘Cause I’m not cheap.”   
  
Waverly nodded gently. “Of course. I can— settle you tomorrow?”   
  
“You know how many guys say that to me?” 

  
Jesus Christ, she was going to lose out on intel simply because she’d been watching dance after dance in a daze. She had something to offer for the night, thanks to Doc, but it clearly wasn’t enough. Wynonna believed in her, there was no way she would let her down.    
  
Something sprung to mind.    
  
Waverly twisted on the couch, bringing a leg up as much as the restrictive dress would allow so that she was facing Nicole. The green belt of her robe fell over Waverly's calf. “Remember when you were dancing naked over my boyfriend? Because I do. Vividly. Maybe you owe me.”   
  
“Naked?” Nicole laughed. “Whoa.”   
  
“I mean, almost?”   
  
“I don’t do naked at work.” She uncoiled her pointer and middle finger, extending the roll of cash back. “And I don’t do private dances. Sorry.”   
  
Waverly didn’t know if she was disappointed.   
  
“What?”   
  
“Not when there’s a crazed killer out there with a hard on for strippers.” That must have sounded passable as an excuse because Waverly didn’t push it. “But, in the name of research, ask away.”   
  
“Right,” Waverly said as she took the money back. “Um—”   
  
“You don’t have to do this, you know. There’s nothing wrong with you. Some guys are wired differently. Looking isn’t the same as touching to them, fantasy is strictly fantasy.”  She could tell Waverly wasn't convinced. 

 

“A lot of them want what they can’t have, right? Every dancer out there is working every guy whose eyes are all over them. They talk and he tells them what he likes and each of them will turn into a character. It’s just for the money. All the guys know that. Hardly any of the dancers here are single, and none of us are prostitutes.”   
  
Waverly had been taking it all in wordlessly up until that point. “I never said you were a prostitute,” she said. “But if I  _ implied _ that you were, I didn’t mean to.”   
  
Moments later, Nicole’s cheek dimpled. “Skirting around an apology…You’re one of those girls,” she surmised.    
  
Waverly stubbornly remained quiet, although she found that being in a back room of a strip joint having an innocent conversation with one of the dancers wasn’t exactly the worst time she’d had recently, or the strangest. Life was funny like that now.    
  
“Why don't you move like the other girls?”   
  
Nicole looked at her curiously. “You don't like the way I move?”   
  
There was a teasing lilt to Nicole’s tone and it made Waverly’s face heat, ducking her head for a moment. “The dancers, they all switch stages pretty regularly. You, uh, stay put?”   
  


“Mm.”

  
“How come?”

  
Nicole shrugged. “I like my view, I guess. Even when you're not there.”

  
“You never want to mix it up?” Waverly wondered aloud, aware of the flush that had risen to her face and had apparently decided to stay. She saw Nicole thinking, could practically see the wheels turning, and didn’t want her to draw any incorrect conclusions. “I work in a bar, shifts aren't coming in the way they used to and I need to make some extra money. I guess I also wondered how how it all works.” 

  
A strange look flitted over Nicole's face. “Look, I… I'm not sure that's such a good idea. I mean, right now.”

  
“Because of the murders? It's been quiet here. You're here. You're new, right?”

  
“Until it all blows over, I don't think that's a good idea. You have any experience? Dancing, I mean.”

  
“No?” Waverly wrung her hands together. “But I'm a really quick study! You could teach me.”

  
Nicole almost choked on air.    
  
“What?” Waverly demanded. 

  
“I am not teaching you how to do that.” Nicole didn't consider herself to know much to teach, anyway, and she very much doubted Waverly would need any help from her. The disappointment on her face made Nicole swallow. “You'd steal all my regulars,” she said to diffuse it. “You'd be the woman everybody  _ hated.  _ The competition."

  
“Aren't you all in competition anyway?”

  
Nicole laughed. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  
“I like to know things.”

  
“Okay,” Nicole conceded. 

  
“Yeah? Okay?” 

  
“After,” she clarified. “If… when that killer is behind bars, once it's all over, I'll put in a word with Jonas. He runs this place.”

  
“You don't know how long that's going to take,” Waverly pointed out. 

  
Nicole looked at her with some regret. “Look, Waverly… I know the way we met kinda sucked, but you don’t seem like the worst person in the world and I really, really don't want you to come back until it's blown over.”

  
Waverly looked at her, curious. She didn’t think she’d ever been more wrong about a person in her entire life. She’d vilified her on first sight, no questions asked.    
  
“I was kinda mean to you.”   
  
“I know! I lost sleep and everything.”   
  
“What’s your name?” Waverly finally asked. “You still haven’t told me.”   
  
“You didn’t ask, and you should be leaving. Dances only last a song or two unless you’re flush.”   
  
“I’m asking.”   
  
Nicole suddenly hated that she’d met her under these circumstances but she couldn’t very well be honest. “Ruby.”   
  
Waverly stared, the name bouncing around her head. “Huh.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“You don’t look like a Ruby.” Her eyes narrowed once it clicked. “Your real name.”   
  
Nicole laughed heartily. “It's  _ Ruby _ . It's a family name.”

  
Waverly couldn't help but smile even if she knew she was full of shit. “You're full of it.” She shifted backwards across the couch and stuck her hand out. “I'm Waverly.”

  
Nicole slid her hand into Waverly's smaller one. “How could I forget?” 

  
“This is an introduction.” She squeezed in a prompt for a proper handshake and Nicole merely pressed back. 

 

“This is goodbye.”   
  
And it was. For now.    
  
  
  
The ride back to the station had been a little terse. It seems as though Doc could do more than one thing at a time and he’d almost sounded the alarm once he realised Waverly was nowhere to be seen at the club. She’d promised to be better at communication next time.     
  
They stopped by the break room first for coffee. It would probably be another late night, not that Waverly had slept much of late.    
  
Doc swanned into the office first, Waverly close behind balancing three cardboard cups of what had smelled like incredibly strong coffee when it was being poured. Her eyes went straight to the white board set up next to the table. The four victims’ photographs headed the top with their names, ages, and years they’d been active dancers at whichever club’s alley they’d been found in. Underneath those were possible people of interest, either simply to talk to in more depth like dancers or regular club-goers, or, less simply, anyone who seemed suspicious. Frustratingly, it was blank. On the right-hand side of the board, written vertically, was motives. That wasn’t blank. Wynonna had written ‘ _ dot dot dot. Best heir ever _ ’   
  
Dolls hadn’t updated it with Rosie’s name yet.    
  
“My, my, should I get a knife for this tension?” Doc said, eyeing Dolls and Wynonna.    
  
With that, Waverly noticed it too. Wynonna’s face was flushed a little bit, the way it got when she’s been yelling, and Dolls held himself even stiffer than usual, throwing his cap onto the table.    
  
“Everyone… okay?” Waverly set the tower of coffee cups down and pulled back the seat closest to where Wynonna stood.    
  
“Yeah,” Dolls gritted out. “What’d you get?”   
  
“Names.” Waverly smiled brightly. “Yes, plural. Hold the applause. Ooh, and a little background info.”   
  
He stared back blankly. “Great. Nice work, Earp.”   
  
“Why don’t you share with the group what  _ you  _ got?” Wynonna suggested, her voice higher; silky.    
  
“I was there, also,” Doc chimed in for some recognition. He at least received a hard stare for his effort.    
  
Waverly imagined Wynonna directing that question towards her and how she would possibly begin to explain she left Doc’s sight and willingly let herself be lead to a back room by someone none of them knew. She’d be dead before an explanation made it to her lips.    
  
Dolls exhaled heavily from his nose and Wynonna moved behind him, leaning over his shoulders to shove her hand in his jacket pocket. She pulled out a napkin with a phone number scrawled over it and a lipstick kiss.    
  
“Eliza,” Wynonna drawled mockingly, puffing out a laugh.    
  
He took it out of her hands and opened the lid of a coffee, dipping it inside. He prodded at it with a finger until it was soaked through, ineligible. “Wynonna.”   
  
“What? I’m just sharing. Doc and Waverly got  _ actual  _ information related to the case we’re working on, and you stared at Eliza like a dog with a bone for pretty much half the night.”   
  
“I was working the case,” he denied resolutely.   
  
“Yeah, you were working her a  _ little  _ too hard.” Wynonna looked to Doc and Waverly, her cheeks dimpled in a smile far from joy. “He went in the back with her.”   
  
Waverly scratched at her ear.   
  
“Hey,” Dolls cut in sharply, swallowing when he saw Wynonna flinch. He collected himself before he spoke again. “I was doing my job, that’s it.”   
  
Wynonna thought he was full of shit, and if she thought he was full of shit then Waverly would as well because that’s how they worked.    
  
“I don’t  _ care _ , just don’t make it weird by lying,” she fired back. She practically saw his whole body tense up and she was over it. Completely. Wynonna picked up a coffee and turned her back on him. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s raid Nedley’s desk for the good brandy and talk about how much men suck.”   
  
Waverly followed dutifully, casting an apologetic expression to Dolls as Wynonna stalked out of the room. 

 

Waverly understood. Dolls had a lot riding on their investigation. None of the revenants held up their hands claiming responsibility for the murders but there had been more than a trace of excitement in the air around them, a buzz. None of them talked, not even after a beating. They laughed. 

 

The only reason BBD were allowed anywhere near the case was thanks to Whiskey Jim, who was holed up in the city where nobody would find him. Dolls gave Lucado actual proof of demons, she gave him permission to stay in town and look into whatever little problem Purgatory had as long as it resulted in her looking good.

 

“Maybe fill in the board?” Waverly suggested hopefully.    
  
He nodded, moody. Waverly felt badly for Doc who would be left alone with him. “What’d you get?”   
  
“A dancer,” Waverly said. “Ruby.”   
  
“Hot ginger?”   
  
She found herself confirming without pause. Unfortunately she’d been unable to get a photo. Too many eyes watching her, and there hadn’t been any vaguely passable reasons to request a photo to Nicole’s face.   
  
“Her deal?”   
  
“Oh, she’s innocent.”   
  
“Proof?”   
  
“She just—is.” Waverly sighed at the stare she was given. “She’s  _ new _ , but she was really nice to me. And look,” she added, turning in a circle with her arms open. “In one piece.”   
  
Waverly knew how it sounded. Christ. At least Wynonna wasn’t there to smack her upside the head. She couldn’t help that it was all true.    
  
“Waves!” Wynonna hollered from a distance.

 

As Waverly left the room she could have sworn she heard Doc call Dolls out on the blatant lie of Wynonna being sick and not trusting his word.

 

A large splash of brandy in her coffee was perfectly welcomed.   
  
  
  


Most nights since she’d started Nicole made it a point to leave last. It had been a long shift and she felt the edge of fatigue kick in as she made her way to her car, old and new blisters on her feet and heels reminding her with each step that they needed looking at once she was home. 

 

The case had been drying up over the past week and she wondered how long she would be granted to keep at it. 

 

Nicole's thoughts drifted to Waverly, wondering if she would take the advice and stay away until everything had blown over or in fact be back to the club sooner rather than later. Selfishly, Nicole wasn’t sure what she wanted most. 

 

Her keys slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. Nicole looked down to see where they had fallen in the dark, waiting a moment for her eyes to adjust to the change of light. She toed the closest area to aid in the search and footfall came from behind her, heavy and steady. Nicole twisted around, arm twisted behind to the waistband of her jeans where her glock was tucked away.    
  
She rose to full height as someone leaned down and reached by her feet.    
  
Moments later, a middle-aged man stared back at her.   
  
His red shirt was bright even in dim lighting and his white hat hung around the back of his neck, bandana tied around the front. His energy strange, Nicole didn’t immediately release the touch on her gun and her body angled away unconsciously.   
  
The man offered her fallen keys.    
  
“I believe these belong to you,” he said.    
  
Nicole accepted them with some caution, lowering her other hand from her weapon. “Thank you.” She looped her middle finger through the main keyring link until it slid all the way down, a sure grip on them.    
  
His smile was handsome, even if a little slimy. His moustache twitched with the movement and he positioned his hat atop his head, curving a finger over the front of it. “Pleasure was mine.”   
  
Nicole lifted her chin, a polite, tight smile flashing over her face. His eyes hadn’t left hers since the moment she looked at him. “Are you new around here?”   
  
“New? Oh, sweetheart, no.”   
  
“What’s your name?”   
  
“William, darlin’. But I do believe I would answer to any name you see fit to call me.”

  
“Haven't seen you around much, William.”

  
“Well now, that will just have to change,” he said. “Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

  
Nicole was unsure if that was a promise or a threat, but she had a nagging suspicion that the uncomfortable chill in the air wasn’t entirely down to the weather. “Ruby.”

  
William smiled again and touched a finger to his hat. “Charmed. Well, I’d best be going. You have yourself a wonderful night.”

 

He walked by her and Nicole turned to watch him get further and further away, not taking her eyes off him until there was nothing left to see. Something about him gnawed at her the whole drive home and long after she was safe under the covers of her bed. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Tell me again why we’re all here.”  
  
Waverly, Wynonna, Doc, and Dolls had been at Pussy Willows long enough to all be part way through a drink. Only Wynonna and Waverly sat together, per Wynonna’s insistence. There was no way she was letting her sister out of her sight.   
  
Wynonna obliged, lightly smacking Waverly’s leg to gain her attention from a stage. “Dolls overheard a head’s up from Nedley, needs the whole gang here.”   
  
“Head’s up on what?”   
  
“Another sighting of the same dude you eventually remembered to include on your report. Red shirt guy. Got another report first thing this morning while you were drooling all over me.”   
  
Waverly had ended up falling asleep in the break room at the station, the black couch so far from comfortable that she and Wynonna had grabbed a couple of extra large Purgatory Sheriff Department jackets and used those as blankets and slept sat up, leaned against each other. Waverly hadn’t slept well, but it had been better with Wynonna there than it had been for the past few weeks.   
  
“Oh?”   
  
“Yeah, we got a name: William,” Wynonna said. “I’m calling him Red Willy, so.”   
  
“Did he do something?”   
  
“Creeped one of the girls out, I think. No biggie. They’re alive. Not even a scratch.”   
  
“Which one?”   
  
Wynonna shrugged. “The one who called it in?”   
  
“You don’t know?” Waverly twisted on her bar stool, looking the dancers over. Each of them looked fine; well, even. She lingered on Nicole.   
  
“Dolls was creeping, trying to get into my good books, and I was eating it up that much I didn’t really hear what he said? Don’t judge me.”   
  
Wynonna followed Waverly’s line of sight and watched Nicole move on stage. There was something about her that didn’t sit right, wasn’t as it seemed. Wynonna looked back at Waverly with a smirk and it held on her mouth as she regarded her thoughtfully, eventually fading away. Waverly was staring.   
  
Wynonna leaned in conspiratorially. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”   
  
“God, I hope not,” Waverly muttered.   
  
“What?”

 

“What are you thinking?”

 

Wynonna leisurely mixed her drink and sucked the stirrer. “That there’s a lot more than meets the eye to our resident ginger pop tart, there.”

 

It took Waverly a second to catch on. “You think Ruby’s who we’re looking for?”

 

Wynonna shrugged. “She's new in town, right? Started right around the time those attacks from the other clubs died down.”

 

“What about William? And what if you're wrong?”

 

“Am I ever?” Wynonna rolled her eyes at the levelled stare. “Okay, but what if I'm _right_ , Waverly?”

 

“What if you're wrong?”

 

“Okay, but what if —”

 

Waverly slid down from her seat in a huff. “You're not scarring a person for life on a hunch.”

 

“Hey,” Wynonna whined. “Red Willy could be a ruse, or they could be the weirdest tag-team ever! Where are you going?”

 

“To do some good old-fashioned detective work, something _you_ don't remember how to do.”

 

“Oh, low blow,” Wynonna frowned as Waverly began making her way towards the stages. “You're not even a detective,” she mumbled. For a second she thought Waverly had heard her because she hurried back over. “I said knock ‘em dead, sis.”

 

“Do you have any singles?”

  
  
  


Wynonna ended up not far from Rosie’s current stage. She sat several seats away from Doc and had to admit the routine was killer. She hadn’t seen one like that since she worked the place. No wonder he was so captivated; even she was. Rosie danced in nothing but a thong and heels and Wynonna conceded that, other than her own once upon a time, Rosie’s routine was more than deserving of giving a bit of cash away.  
  
She was on the suspect list partly because of that. Nobody danced better than Wynonna.   
  
Most of the other dancers hadn’t raised any red flags.   


Wynonna spotted her sister in the crowd and frowned at the moment that passed between Waverly and Nicole. It was small: a flirty smile. But the way it formed on Nicole’s mouth and was instantly mirrored on Waverly’s, albeit a little shyer, the way _she_ had returned to guys a thousand times before, it made Wynonna pause. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember Waverly giving any of the other dancers a second glance since they’d got there but she’d been sat in the same seat watching the same woman for a while.   


A bewildered smile held steady on Wynonna's face for several minutes as she watched them. Nicole worked her audience well, indisputably so, though the attention she gave Waverly was different. Did they know each other? The possibility caused her face to harden. If they did, that meant Waverly lied to her.

 

She dismissed the idea. No way. Waverly wouldn't keep anything from her, not something related to a case where the only victims thus far had been outwardly female and Ruby was a potential suspect, guilty until proven innocent, except each time Waverly made eye contact with Nicole, Wynonna could see _something_.

 

By anybody’s standards, Nicole had rarely ever been a shy person. Throughout her childhood, career, and personal life, she had always managed to work through any feelings of apprehension or discomfort by jumping straight in to any given situation, only she had already jumped in and it hadn’t made the slightest bit of difference. Not where Waverly was concerned. Not when Waverly watched dance after dance and refused to look away.   
  
Part of Nicole _loved_ it; part of her revelled in it: the power.   
  
And part of Nicole had begun to discover that, where Waverly was concerned, she wasn’t the one who held any.   
  
Nicole felt Waverly’s eyes on her as she made her way down from the stage to do a quick sweep of the bar. Jonas shook his head when she caught his line of sight. No sign of William. She turned back and swallowed, unable to stop herself from leaning down over the back of Waverly’s chair. Her hands skimmed down Waverly’s arms, mouth close to her ear.   
  
“You’re distracting me.”   
  
Waverly paused, just barely. She turned in, tipping her head down. “How’s that?”   
  
“Oh, you know,” Nicole accused. She had to know.   
  
Busted.   
  
“Do you want me to go?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

Unable to hear what was being said between them, Wynonna frowned.  
  
She watched Nicole move away and head back to her stage, so she knocked back what was left of her whisky sour and rose from her seat, crossing over to her audience. Waverly didn't notice at all but Nicole did and Wynonna did not offer a quick smile or even polite nod of her head. She watched over the two of them like a hawk, not even bothered to check how Dolls was working the case this time.

 

She'd get to him soon but for now she had a job to do. Self-admittedly, Wynonna hadn't always been the best at it but now, since becoming the heir, there was no greater importance than keeping Waverly safe.

 

She stayed there a while, long enough to be torn on who, in fact, was playing who.

 

Mr. McVey, an older gentleman who had owned the pet store in town as long as Wynonna could remember hauled himself to his feet and slowly staggered past Nicole's stage on his way back to the bar. Wynonna watched Waverly lean around him for a better view and scoffed.

 

She dumped a pile of napkins onto her sisters lap and expelled an exaggerated contented sigh. If looks could kill...

 

“Oh, _hey_ , sis.”

 

Waverly picked up the napkins and lifted her brows, sticking her neck out to convey her confusion.

 

Wynonna settled in her seat. “For your drool, ya big dog.”

 

Colour seeped into Waverly's face. “I'm working the case.”

 

That phrase was going to be banned.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Seeing if Jewel gives all the hotties the same attention, or if it's just you.”

 

“It's Ruby,” Waverly corrected. “And she's just doing her job.”

 

Wynonna smirked. “Like you are?” Leaning to one side, she pulled out a few notes from her back pocket. “Fluu-uush. Got a few twenties in here. I'm thinking a lap dance to one of the least sexy songs ever recorded? Cotton-eyed Joe? Make her work for it.”  


“All the girls here, and you have to choose—”

 

“Yours?”

 

Wynonna watched Waverly walk away and afforded Nicole one last unkind glance before taking after her sister.

 

She saw Waverly go into the ladies restroom and waited for her at the bar. Someone stood beside her and she didn't need to look to know it was Dolls.

 

“What you got?”

 

“Jugs —as in that smoking hot dancer with the perfect ones, and Ruby. Something’s off there. Red Willy?”

 

“Excuse me?” he asked.

 

Wynonna didn't smile. She didn't want him getting any crazy ideas thinking they were okay again. “Red shirt guy.”

 

“No, nothing. Waverly?”

 

Wynonna _really_ wanted to smile now. She wanted to tell him about Waverly mooning over a suspect but couldn't bring herself to. Even teasing about it with him, or anyone who wasn't her sister, didn't feel right. Not yet. “Uh, good. Bathroom.”

 

“Look, about last night—"

 

Wynonna turned her wrist over. “Well, it's about a quarter to I-don't-give-a-shit, so I better see where Waves got to.”

 

Waverly was red in the face when Wynonna found her by the sinks. Other than the dancers who had their own restrooms, they were the only women there. The privacy was greatly needed.

 

Waverly glared when she saw her. “What, Wynonna?”

 

“What crawled up your butt?” She returned defensively.

 

“Nothing. What do you want?”

 

Champ had sent her a voicemail that she very nearly deleted without listening, but curiosity had gotten the better of her. After all, what else could he possibly have to say to her when last night she'd made it crystal clear she was done, as was he. It turned out to be a brief recording of him screwing some girl who sounded suspiciously like Stephanie Jones _._

 

It didn't matter that she hadn't been in love with him for a long time or the thought of ever rekindling their mostly laughable romance sort of made her skin crawl now, it was the slow, heavy sensation that seemed to snake up her back and envelop her.

 

Waverly had experienced it before at various times in her life: the dull sense of absolute unworthiness.

 

“Just checking you didn't fall in. You've been a while. You okay?”

 

Wynonna was annoying and relentless in her teasing, yet there was always love and care rising above it. Right now, it felt like mistrust. It felt like she couldn't even be left alone to find out any information on Ruby without having a chaperone, nevermind being able to use the damn bathroom.

 

It was suffocating.

 

“I don't need a minder."

 

“Bet you wouldn't mind if it was Ruby though, am I right?” Wynonna snarked. As expected, it went down like a lead balloon. “For real, what's up? You look ready to go on a killing spree.” A gasp tore from her throat. “Are _you_ killing these defenceless women?”

 

“God, shut up. I'm not in the mood.”

 

Wynonna blocked Waverly as she tried to pass her. “Really? I had no idea.” A tense moment stretched between them. “Can I at least talk to you about the case?”

 

“The one you don't trust me with? Sure, talk away.” Waverly folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall.

 

“Hey, _you_ I trust. Everyone else? Not a chance.”

 

“Doesn't look that way to me.”

 

Wynonna swallowed down her frustration. “You've gotta keep your emotions out of a case, Waves.”

 

“That's hilarious,” Waverly commented. “Are you talking to Dolls yet, or are you still punishing him for doing nothing wrong? You've known he's into you and you haven't done anything. What's stopping him from looking at other women?”

 

“Hey,” Wynonna warned. “Less of the home truths and more listening to me. Don't be this mad at me when I'm just trying to keep you safe.”

 

Waverly really didn't want to get into any drama about Champ and his latest screw of an old friend of hers. It wasn't worth the effort. She sighed. It wasn't worth the effort to fight with Wynonna either. “What have you got?”

 

“I mean, not to brag but I got not _one_ lead but two.”

 

“William?”

 

Oh yeah, him too. “Round it up to three.”

 

“What?”

 

Wynonna braced herself and shrugged nonchalantly. “All I’m saying is there are three possible killers in pee dubs. Red Willy, of course. Goes without saying. Then there’s Rosie whose body moves in a way that can _only_ be described as not of this world, and despite the impending defence about to be hurled my way, Jessica Rabbit.”   
  
“No way.”   
  
“Dolls agrees with me!” He'd put her down as a person of interest on the board so it was good enough for Wynonna to rope him onto her side.   
  
Waverly rolled her eyes. “Of course he does. It’s not Ruby. I don’t think it’s Rosie either, she’s really nice.”   
  
“You guys strike up much of a conversation when she’s flashing those things in your face?” Wynonna chuckled. “Hang out on her days off?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“I’m telling you, something’s off.”   
  
“You’re on something,” Waverly accused. Another planet, perhaps.   
  
“Yeah, the right track!”   
  
Waverly cocked a brow. “What are you planning on doing?”

 

“Arresting them in front of everyone to make a point,” Wynonna said. “The residents of this town might be dicks, but they deserve to feel safe.”

 

“Because clearly they're all avoiding a potentially dangerous location?” The club was always busy. “You can’t just have them arrested on a hunch. Probable cause?”  
  
“I think one of them _probably_ did it.”   
  
“Wynonna!”   
  
“Waves.” Wynonna pulled one of Waverly’s hands free and held it down between them. “I love you, okay? Always, forever, no matter how stubborn you are, but I can’t help thinking you only seeing the good in people is putting blinders on you right now. Please don’t get caught up in it. If I’m right about Ruby, she’s dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

 

“You're wrong about her.”

 

“Why don't we save the debate for the office instead of a knocker locker bathroom?”

 

“There's no debate!” Waverly squeezed Wynonna's hand and released it. “I love you too but you've got to stop seeing people as the enemy. They're not all bad.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“Do you?” Waverly pressed. “For a long time, everybody thought you were crazy. They-they put you on meds you didn't need and a shrink declared you _insane_. You finally come back here, where this whole curse began for us, and it starts up again with Purgatory crawling with demons. I get it. Who wouldn't be wary?”

 

Wynonna stiffened at the history lesson. That part of the past was off-limits. “Shut your mouth, Waverly.”

 

“I'm just saying I understand.”

 

It wasn't said unkindly. Quite the opposite. However, there was no possible way she could ever understand.  Not even if she wanted to. Not completely. It was something Wynonna would always be grateful for because the only way to understand fully was to experience it. On the other hand, it was something she would always ultimately be resentful towards her sister for, however much it wasn't her fault.

 

Wynonna laughed, lined dimples framing her mouth. “Oh, I mean if you understand…”

 

“I do.”

 

“You couldn't possibly,” Wynonna bit out. “Saying you do is patronising as hell, and the little psych routine? Work on it. While you're at it, work on your attitude, it sucks.”

 

Waverly’s face screwed up. She pointed a finger towards her own chest. “Mine sucks? I was trying to be _nice_. The way I'm feeling right now, not the easiest.”

 

Wynonna pulled a ridiculous face, mocking Waverly's confusion, and clapped her hands together. “Gold star, champ. What do you think _I_ was doing?”

 

“Treating me like a child, like I can't handle myself on a case? Accusing innocent people of violent murders.”

 

Wynonna sneered and turned away. “God, stop being so damn sensitive! What's the matter with you? You're that mad I'm suspicious of your newest crush?”

 

Waverly’s face faltered and she could feel her heartbeat as she left the restroom, even as she made her way through the club and left out of the exit. Even as Wynonna followed and called her name.

 

“Waves! Look, I'm— that was low. I suck.”

 

It was snowing heavily, had been for a while by the looks of the ground. Waverly went outside for some air but didn't think she’d get much.

 

She spun around. “Yeah, you do! Everything is so black and white to you.”

 

“Yeah, it is,” Wynonna returned firmly. “And it makes my job a hell of a lot easier.”

 

“That's so weak.”

 

“You're not the heir, Waverly, I am. Me. When you have any idea how that feels, the pressure that comes with the gig, then you get to lecture me on how I deal with it. Until then? Shut your damn mouth. I do my job, and I do it well.”

 

Waverly felt alight with anger. She couldn't feel the cold or the way snow was melting into her hair and clothes. “Debatable.”

 

She didn't mean it, but she said it anyway.

 

Hurt flickered over Wynonna's face, replaced with a cool collectiveness. “Still can't handle the truth, can you, kid? I'll add it to the growing list of things you can't deal with.” She moved towards her. “Let's get you home before you really get yourself into trouble.”

 

Waverly breathed steadily to slow her fast-beating heart. It did little to help. Adrenaline flowed as freely as rage. “Screw you,” she spat, moving to go back inside the club.

 

Wynonna caught her about the wrist. “Get in the car, we’re leaving.”

 

“Get bent.”

  
“I’m not kidding, Waverly! You're not going back in there in that mood without me, let’s go!”

  
“I am so _sick_ of you.”

  
“Me?”

  
“Yeah, you!” Waverly exploded. “I know you’ve been gone half my life but I’m not a child, Wynonna! Stop treating me like one.”

  
Wynonna blew out a shaky laugh. “Oh, babe, don’t you dare.”

  
“Why not? It’s not like you face any consequences for whatever bad mood you’re in; we all have to shut up and deal with it. How about you deal with mine?”

  
“I’ll deal with it, all right. Get your ass in your car now.”

  
“No.”

  
“Don’t make me tell you again.”

  
All Waverly could hear over and over again, in many variations, was that Wynonna didn’t believe in her. Didn’t matter how she worded it, the words all boiled down to the same thing: Waverly wasn’t good enough.

  
“I’m staying,” Waverly said. “You’re going. And we’re going to hate each other for the rest of the night at _least_. Got a problem with that? Good luck taking it up with someone who’s not pissed at you for something.”

  
“You ungrateful asshole.”

  
“Bye, Wynonna. I’ll do my best not to get myself killed and or blow the case while you’re gone.”

 

Wynonna stalked towards her and picked her up, ignoring her the screams of protest. She carried her several paces of kicking and resistance when Waverly yanked hard on her hair. Wynonna dropped her and glowered, breathing harder.

  
“I’m not going with you.”

  
Wynonna's mouth upturned. She shrugged, no more fight left in her. “Don't come crying to me when you get hurt.”

 

Waverly grit her teeth and stalked off in the opposite direction. She skidded, her heels providing no grip against the slickness, and it was another stoke to any already raging fire.

 

Waverly flung the door to the club back open and the bouncer easily stepped to the side to allow her entry. She found Dolls first. He was typing on his phone, adding to his notes.

 

“We're done for the night,” she said flatly.

 

According to the time on his phone, they were not. He looked up. “Where's Wynonna?”

 

“Is she our boss? I said we're done, go home. Do chin-ups, or whatever you do in your spare time.”

 

Dolls hesitated at the expression on her face. Earp women were a ticking time bomb when they were pissed. “Did you guys… clash?”

 

Waverly cocked her head to the side and stared at him. He swallowed tightly.

 

“Hey, I know Wynonna can be cold when she's hurt but whatever she said, I'm sure she didn't mean it. Just like you didn't.”

 

“Except we did.” They didn't.

 

“C’mon, you know she thinks the world is off its axis when you guys aren't talking. Go home and figure it out.”

 

As far as Waverly was concerned, it was another person telling her what to do and thinking she didn't know her own mind.

 

“I'm going to the bar,” she informed. “Where I plan on staying until I'm drunk enough to feel better or I'm kicked out, whichever comes first. You go. Take Doc with you before he's bankrupt.”

 

“Leave you here?” His life wouldn't be worth living if Wynonna discovered he'd left her there. “Not a chance.”

 

“Don't worry, I'll tell her you didn't have a choice.”

 

“Waverly—”

 

“Dolls, I'm not in the mood. Really. Go.”

 

He hesitated for a moment. “Your phone on?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Ringer on?”

 

Waverly was still wound tight. She stared at him.

 

“Alright,” Dolls gave in. “I'm gone. But Doc stays, you hear me? Not up for debate.”

 

“Fine,” sounded a lot like whatever.

  
  
  
  


Her chest was still tight as she slouched across the bar, half-heartedly stirring another stiff drink. She didn't know what number that was but it had stopped burning a couple of drinks ago. Waverly's phone rested in front and in plain view, half expecting Wynonna to call and apologise. The fraction of logic she had remaining told her that hell would likely freeze over before her sister apologised first and it was probably right but it didn’t stop her from sporadically checking her alerts.

 

“Let's put our hands together for Ruby!” came over the speakers, followed by a chorus of cheers and whistles.

 

Waverly let her forehead touch the bar as she sulked over the mess she'd made with Wynonna and the current state of her life. She felt untethered, suspended like anything could and would happen, and she couldn't think of anything more terrifying.

 

Generally speaking, surprises had never meant anything good in her life and they just kept on coming lately. She thought on it, considered what else could happen. Various scenarios ran through her head and she was inebriated enough to let even the thoughts affect her.

 

Waverly straightened up and tipped her glass back for a large mouthful.

 

Someone stood behind her. It was William.

 

“Everything alright, darlin’?”

 

She didn't look behind. “Nope.”

 

“I'm a great listener. Lotta practice. How's about some company?”

 

“No, thank you,” she replied in a sing-song.

 

“That's not all that nice o’ you.”

 

Waverly shrugged his hand off her shoulder without looking at him. “Maybe I'm not a nice person; maybe I'm a bitch to people who totally don't deserve it, or maybe I just don't know you and I don't owe you a conversation.”

 

“That fire… it burns through all of you,” William smiled, amused. “Even now.”

 

Waverly tried to piece together what he'd just said, the words not really registering, but it was like trying to remember a dream. She didn't care to ask him to repeat himself.

 

Someone came up to the side of her.

 

“Waverly.”

 

Nicole.

 

Per request, Nicole had just finished for the night. She was always quick throwing her civilian clothes back on, eager to get home. Lonnie was due to pop by after she had left, and Jonas rarely left the place even during the day. She'd seen Waverly drinking alone at the bar earlier and didn't want to leave without speaking to her. Make sure she was alright. On her way over she’d spotted William, the same man who had approached her last night. The mere sight of him set her instincts alight.   
  
She checked her phone for the exact time, making a mental note of it, and snapped his photograph. She hadn’t seen him all night and while she may have been slightly distracted, Nicole always did her job well. He must have just arrived, and he left wordlessly once he saw her. Lonnie was due in for a sweep soon, maybe he would have more luck.

 

It was a nicer voice to Waverly: calm and soft.

 

She turned towards it, knowing who she'd find. She studied Nicole the best she could under the circumstances. "You look happy," she observed.   


Nicole looked in the direction William must have left, in two minds to go after him. Ultimately, her struggle was eased some by setting eyes on Waverly.  
  
"Maybe I was hoping I'd see you again tonight."

  
"Don't take this the wrong way," Waverly started, voice slightly slurred around the edges, "but I wanted a _break._ I see you everywhere now." She sighed, pained. "Everywhere."

 

Nicole's expression was one of sympathy. "This is where I work," she said gently. "Odds are pretty high you'll see me."

 

"I'm not stupid." Waverly swiped her purse off the bar and slid off her stool, batting away the hand that went to steady her. She didn't need Nicole's help. "But I should— I should've been gone a long time ago.”

 

"Why'd you stay?"

 

Nicole looked so open and kind and she was so beautiful that it was infuriating. Waverly scoffed and shoved the door open, a wall of freezing air meeting her. She didn't feel it. "I'm _going_ , remember? Keep up."

 

Nicole saw Waverly reach into her purse and heard keys rattling around. She covered her hand. "No way."

 

"I'm an excellent driver."

 

"I'm sure, but I can't let you do that."

 

"You didn't let me finish. I'm an excellent driver; I've never started my car drunk." She stabbed a finger towards Nicole's face. "Never."

 

Nicole gently wrapped her fingers around it and lowered their hands. "Okay."

 

"I'm sleeping. I could call someone to come get me, but I won't. I could ask _Doc_ ,” Waverly said, eager to prove herself. “But I won’t. I don’t need anyone.”

 

"You're a strong, independent woman, I got you," Nicole smiled, the name going over her head. "Didn't figure you for anything else."

 

Waverly made an effort to tap the end of Nicole's nose. She missed and poked her mouth instead. "And don't you forget it." Waverly tried to take the keys. “Keys."

 

"I'll drive you home."

 

"No."

 

"Why not?" Nicole asked.

 

Waverly knew without a shadow of a doubt that Wynonna would feel strongly against that. "I can't just _tell_ you where I live."

 

"Is there... any particular reason for that?"

 

“You could kidnap me.”

 

“And keep you at your own house?”

 

"Murder me. Torture me. Kill all the animals on my farm." That's right, throw her off the scent. She didn't understand why Nicole was smiling but whatever.

 

"I'd do a lot of things to you," Nicole admitted. "But none of those."

 

"I'm tired."

 

"I'm not." Nicole opened the driver's door and got in before Waverly could do much more than gawk.

 

Waverly stalked forward and slipped momentarily in the snow. The annoyance only added to her indignance. "Hey!"

 

Nicole was bent forward uncomfortably and reached under the seat, sliding it backwards so she didn't resemble a contortionist. "I can either sit here with you until you're sober, which could take a while, or I can drive you to my place. Spare room is all yours. We'll even take your car so you're free to go as soon as you want after some sleep."

 

Waverly stared up at her vacantly. "You could still murder me."

 

"Well I... promise not to."

 

Waverly thrust a hand outward. Nicole stared at it. "Shake."

 

Nicole put her hand in Waverly's. It was cold but soft. They shook on it. It was perhaps the strangest promise she'd ever made but God if she wasn't enjoying every minute she was around this woman.

  
  


 

 

 

The drive wasn't overly long, although certainly long enough for Nicole to cringe inwardly at having to walk back to the club in the morning for her own car. As they'd waited for the windscreen to clear and the car to heat up some, Nicole checked in with Lonnie who was due to check in at the club. She sent him William's photo.

 

Waverly didn't seem to want to talk a lot, so they didn't. Nicole didn't mind, the snow coming down as relentlessly as it was proved to be enough to hold her attention, as well as not being able to remember the last time she drove a manual. She was out of practice and it showed.

 

Waverly blew out a long breath when they came to a stop outside an unfamiliar house. What a car ride. Doc may have driven better.

 

"Think I could have done a better job than that, even like this."

 

Nicole switched off the engine with considerable relief, smiling at the drunk, glazed eyes focused on her. "Been awhile since I drove anything but an auto. Come on, it's freezing in here."

 

Waverly had her window down some of the way. "I was feeling a lil..." Waverly waved her hand.

 

“I got you."

 

Nicole unclipped two seatbelts and Waverly used the car door to steady herself getting out. The cold air and the fact that she was at Nicole's house sobered her a little, though not enough for her not to stumble back in the snow in her heels. The next thing she knew, most of her weight was slumped against Nicole's front.

 

"Whoa."

 

"I gotcha. Y'okay?"

 

"Yep."

 

"Sure?"

 

Waverly sighed dramatically and stared down at her feet. It'd been freezing when she left her house earlier but it hadn't been _snowing_. Now her feet were buried in five inches of snow. She pushed off Nicole and gripped her proffered wrist to take a tentative step forward.

 

The ball of her right foot skidded backwards harshly and Nicole reacted quickly, wrapping an arm around her middle and hoisting her up before she hit the snow.

 

"Sorry," she apologised, letting Waverly go once she sensed some tension.

 

Waverly ran a shaky hand through her hair and tried again. The porch wasn't that far away. She made it three steps and shrieked as she fell into the snow.

 

Nicole offered her a hand up.

 

"Don't even think about it."

 

Nicole knotted her brows together. "Sorry?"

 

"You're not _carrying_ me to the door."

 

Nicole really hadn't been thinking of such a thing. "Okay."

 

Once she was upright, Waverly seemed nervous. In the blink of an eye, it had disappeared. "Tell me if I'm breaking your toes?"

 

"What?"

 

Waverly held onto Nicole's shoulder and kicked off a heel at a time before gingerly stepping onto each of her feet . Nicole looked so beautiful in the snow, bright eyes, rosy cheeks and plush red lips. Waverly's eyes dropped to her mouth for a second longer than they should have and she twisted in her arms, pulling them tight around her middle just in time to miss the pained wince flicker over Nicole’s face at the extra weight on her injured feet.

 

"To the house."

 

Nicole snorted. Waverly sure was something.

 

It would have been a hell of a lot quicker to run inside barefoot or even borrow a pair of Nicole's shoes despite being bigger. Still, Nicole took a steadying breath and, with some effort, lifted one foot at a time, laughing breathlessly once they finally got to the porch.

"You're an idiot."

 

Once they were inside, Waverly stood in the hall and watched while Nicole walked through the living area to the kitchen. Waverly wasn’t in much of a state to take in too much information but the house smelled good (like clean clothes had been put to dry on the radiator) and it was warmer than the Homestead at night. It was nice.   
  
“Hey, you want a coffee?” Nicole called from the kitchen. She came into view holding a bottle of water from the fridge. “Or is this good?”   
  
Stay awake and have to _think_ ? Hard pass.   
  
“Coffee this late?”   
  
The way Waverly’s face scrunched up pulled at the corners of Nicole’s mouth. “You’re probably right,” she said, walking around the couch. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m just going to make the room a little more presentable. Wasn’t expecting a guest.”   
  
“Let me help.” Waverly moved to follow her and Nicole put a hand upon her arm.   
  
“I got it,” she insisted. “Maybe check in with anyone who’s going to miss you tonight?”   
  
That totaled up to a big, fat zero.   
  
Nicole hurried to straighten up the bedroom and hide her new police uniform at the back of her closet, just in case. She hid her gun and badge in the safe. Luckily she’d stocked up on painkillers since starting her undercover gig and she left a couple out on the bedside table. If Waverly was anything like her, waking up tomorrow morning would not be pleasant.   
  
She was stood at the bookcase when Nicole was done, eyeing all the different spines.   
  
“Snooping?”   
  
Waverly smiled over her shoulder. “Totally.”   
  
“Anything of interest?”   
  
She held up a snack-size Coffee Crisp. “Found your stash. Can I have this?”   
  
“You’ve already taken a bite.”   
  
Waverly put the last piece of chocolate in her mouth. She always got a sweet tooth when she drank. Since leaving the kitchen Waverly didn’t know where the closest trash can was and handed the wrapper to Nicole when she was close enough.   
  
“So you’re all set up there,” Nicole said. “New toothbrush in the bathroom, something for your head in the morning in the bedroom, and uh, there’s a t-shirt on the bed if you want it. Also, I hope you’re not a light sleeper because I need a scorching shower, like, right now.”   
  
Waverly found it funny for Nicole to offer her own clothes when she regularly saw her wearing, well, not a lot. The thought that Nicole looked good in clothes may be a strange one to have, but it was true nonetheless. She wore blue jeans that hugged her thighs and hips and what looked like a soft cream sweater. Waverly’s teeth pushed into her bottom lip once she noticed. She turned away to pick up her water and thanked her.   
  
A little while later, settled down into a bed that was soft and smelled good, Waverly heard the running water from the shower in the next room and allowed herself the luxury to _imagine_. No matter how much she enjoyed it, she found it difficult to focus after little sleep as of late and more than a few drinks. Everything was a little too fragmented to form into any sort of fantasy worth holding onto.

 

Well, except one…

 

Waverly drank from the bottle and lay back down, unable to help but feel slightly odd at the unfamiliarity of being in a different bed in a different room in a house with a woman she didn’t totally know, of which her sister was keen to arrest.  
  
Nevertheless, Waverly fell asleep wondering how in the hell anyone would ever figure Nicole for a murderer when she couldn't remember feeling safer.

  


  


  


She woke a couple of hours later with an overwhelming urge to pee, and a dry mouth. She took care of the former first before she made her way downstairs for some more water; a journey made easier by a small lamp left on, soft yellow light illuminating her way.   
  
Waverly stopped suddenly at the bottom of the stairs. Nicole was asleep on the couch. She tugged at the hem of her t-shirt self-consciously anyway. The sofa was decked out with proper pillows and a duvet and it was very clear that had been planned.   
  
One of Nicole’s feet hung out of it, off the end of the couch, and she faced Waverly who took in the sight greedily. She looked to be in a deep sleep but Waverly didn’t want to get caught staring. She allowed herself several more moments before she crept around the couch and cringed at the noise and bright light of the fridge as she opened it.

 

Once Waverly was back upstairs and sat on the edge of the bed with the bedside lamp on, gratefully washing down tablets with her water, she thought of Nicole who’d given her bed up so she would be comfortable. This was where Nicole slept and... engaged in other activities. Waverly idly wondered which side of the bed Nicole slept on.   
  
Nicole appeared in the doorway looking tired. Waverly was surprised to see her and it showed on her face.   
  
“Sorry, heard you walking around. How are you feeling?”   
  
Waverly squinted one eye shut, a stabbing pain behind it as the hangover kicked in. “Never better.”   
  
“Denial works for me, too.”   
  
“Really?”   
  
“No.” Nicole smiled when Waverly looked down, a laugh escaping. “I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight.”   
  
“Hey, Ruby?” Waverly started. “You said the spare room was mine? The spare room at my place is nothing special, but this seems...a little much?” She didn’t want to say outright that she’d seen her asleep on the couch.   
  
“I forgot it’s still sort of a box room,” Nicole explained. “And by that I mean literally, not that it’s overly small. I’m the worst unpacker.”   
  
“You forgot?”   
  
“Technically it gets used?” Nicole shrugged. “I filled one of the bigger boxes with blankets when I kept finding my cat in there. Now she’s like princess and the pea.” A rare but charming display of embarrassment filtered over her face. “I never really considered the fact that the fur baby has her own room before now,” she grimaced. “Never thought I'd end up being _that_ kind of woman.”   
  
Waverly’s smile was soft. She looked at Nicole in wonder without realising it.   
  
“Anyway, try not to throw up on my carpet,” Nicole smirked. “Night.” Her breath caught in her throat when she gazed her foot over her ankle.   
  
“What?”   
  
Nicole blew out a breath and glanced toward her feet. “Ah, just a perk of the job: feet like they’ve been through a meat grinder.”

 

Waverly felt awful at the admission. She made a move to stand from the bed. “Hey, you totally did me a favour by not letting me freeze to death in my car, I can take the couch.”

 

“The deal was you got a bed.”

 

“Salt water, for your feet,” Waverly advised. “You should be bathing them. Are you?”

 

Nicole smiled at her attempt to change the subject “You're not sleeping down there, get back in bed.”

 

Waverly glanced at it. It was king size. She considered it for a moment. “I kick in my sleep sometimes, but I mean… It's not exactly a small bed. We could…”

 

Nicole made a genuine effort not to look so keen but her bed was her _sanctuary_ since she started the undercover gig. “Are you sure?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
Waverly was sure her mouth ran away with her but she couldn’t have settled down in a huge, mostly-empty bed and fallen asleep knowing Nicole was downstairs on a couch. Since sleeping a lot of the alcohol off, Waverly didn’t think sleep would return easily now she was sober enough to think more clearly of her fight with Wynonna anyway.   
  
Once Nicole was in bed beside her, warming the other side up nicely, Waverly knew it would be a while before she’d doze off again. She clicked off the lamp and lay down, folding her hands over the covers.   
  
It was likely her mind overthinking things but the silence felt heavy and made her nervous. Her eyes adjusted to the dark before she spoke. “I can’t believe I went home with you.” A moment passed.  “I mean —”   
  
“I know what you mean.”   
  
“God.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“My sister. She’s going to kill me for not going home with her. Or at all.”

 

“That woman you were with?”

 

“Yeah.” She screwed her eyes shut with a quick shake of the head. “It's not as weird as it sounds.”  
  
Nicole rolled her neck to look over at Waverly. “You didn’t call or text to tell her you’re okay?”   
  
“No, we had a fight.” Waverly gasped. “You let me tread all over you! I was stomping all over your butchered feet.”   
  
Nicole grinned. “I mean, I was going for a dramatic flair with the whole meat grinder thing, but thanks for your honesty.”   
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
“Sure.”   
  
“I mean, you should have said something,” Waverly told her, deflecting some of the blame.   
  
“I barely had time to blink before you were on me.”   
  
“Sorry.” Nicole closed her eyes again, exhausted. Waverly stirred beside her. “Would you pass me my phone? I’ll send my sister a text. It’s in my bag on the floor.”   
  
Nicole leaned over and reached for Waverly’s bag, their hands brushing as she handed it over. Waverly texted Wynonna that she would see her in the morning and settled back down. She smoothed her hands over the duvet. Nicole could feel her anxious energy.   
  
“You’re nervous.”   
  
“No.”   
  
Nicole smiled with her eyes closed. “A night on my couch is not the worst thing in the world, you know.”   
  
“No, it’s your bed, you shouldn’t have to.”   
  
“I meant for you.”   
  
Waverly smiled, relaxing.   
  
“I’m exhausted and my coordination right now is at about thirty percent. Add my butchered feet into the mix and really, odds are all on you.”   
  
“What if your...partner comes home?”   
  
Waverly was the cutest thing in the world.   
  
“Gender neutral. Very twenty-first century of you,” Nicole said. “Don’t worry about that.” It seemed like Waverly was about to prod again and Nicole wanted her to stew. “Try to get some sleep before you hit hangover or you won’t get any.”

  
“Oh, you’re out of those mini Coffee Crisp’s,” Waverly said out of nowhere.   
  
“What?”   
  
“Sorry, just— before I forgot.”   
  
“How many did you have?”   
  
“I don’t know, five?”   
  
“Five?” Nicole laughed. “They’re my favourite.”   
  
“I had to soak up the booze.”   
  
“With chocolate?”   
  
“I want you to know, I was thinking of myself the whole time.”   
  
“I’ll bet.”   
  
The quiet that followed lacked any awkwardness but Waverly couldn’t help but think on how still Nicole was now compared to the routine she had put on earlier where her body hadn't stopped moving. No, it hadn’t quit for a minute. She swallowed. “So, heels aren’t really your thing?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Your feet are all torn up and blistered.”   
  
Nicole eventually understood what Waverly meant, or she thought she did. “Sometimes,” she said.   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Yeah. Special occasions, or when I want to feel sexy. I don’t really need them for practical reasons.” She felt more than saw Waverly smile. “You try doing what I do for hours every day in a pair of shoes that pinch and rub and tell me your feet aren’t screaming, too.”   
  
Waverly recalled a vivid memory of Nicole dancing in those particular shoes and tried in vain to push it away.   
  
“I wouldn’t be stupid enough not to bathe them.”   
  
Nicole laughed. “Hey, be nice. Don’t make me banish you to the couch.”   
  
If Waverly was smarter and wasn’t so damn comfortable, she would have banished herself.

  
“So, can I ask you something?” Nicole took the silence as permission. “I mean, coming from the perspective of an only child here, but I'm curious how many strip joints you and your sister hit up and _bond_ at?”

 

Waverly made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Like I said, it's not as weird as it sounds.”

 

“I didn't say anything about it being weird, I said I was curious.”

 

“I heard the tone.”

 

“There was no tone.”

 

“I heard one.”

 

Nicole smirked. “What I'm hearing is you skirting around an answer.”

 

“She's protective, and she worries,” Waverly answered. “Big, bad ex-boyfriend whose face she's still dying to rearrange, and some psycho on the loose. It's hard for her to take a step back, I guess.”

 

“Sounds like she really loves you.”

 

Waverly swallowed past the tightness of her throat. “Yeah.”

 

“I can drive you home,” Nicole said, sensing the tension. “Maybe not _well_ , but.”

 

A faint smile came to Waverly. “We said a lot of things… I said a lot of things. It's probably best if we take the night. Sleep on it.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Besides, your feet might not make it.”

 

“True, true.”

 

“Remember the salt water,” Waverly prompted. “And if you're ever in a sticky situation, like, financially, salt and olive oil on the skin is a good exfoliator and moisturiser. Your feet are going to heal but if they’re deep blisters then the skin might not be as soft for a while, so-"

 

“It sounds like I could go in the oven for dinner.”

 

“Until you've tried it…”

 

“I don't want to smell like a bland chicken breast, but I appreciate the tip.”

 

Waverly grinned. “Whatever.”

  
She stretched her legs instead and turned over, slipping an arm underneath her pillow. She hoped Wynonna got her message and wasn't too angry with her. Tomorrow morning wasn’t going to be fun whichever way she looked at it, but at least Waverly could argue she’d sent a text. She felt badly for Doc. She’d forgotten to tell him she was leaving. Waverly hoped he hadn’t seen Wynonna, and if he had, that he was alright.   


As she lay there, all she could picture was how much Wynonna would tear into him for not keeping a better eye on her, the same way she would if their positions were reversed, and was quiet and quick as she picked up her phone again, not a huge amount of battery left, and sent Doc a message. He may not read it in time but it was better than nothing. It allowed her to fall asleep.

  


 

  
Across town, Doc was having what most would consider a bad night.   
  
“Waverly!” he called frantically, furious at himself for not keeping more of an eye on her. He didn’t think it would make much of a difference to Wynonna that he’d had the opportunity to speak to Rosie more than the other nights and while he would admit something about her intrigued him, she was no cold-blooded killer.   
  
Waverly’s car was gone. Worry cut through him. She was nowhere near sober last time he’d seen her and been stupid enough to ask if she was alright.   
  
Snow flickered down delicately at slow intervals now and it was the stark contrast between white and blood red which caught Doc’s attention.

 

William was leaned against a car partially covered in snow, unperturbed by the temperature.   
  
Doc’s eyes widened.  
  
“One of man’s finest inventions,” William said reverently, pushing the snow off the car’s paintwork. “Imagine having these way back when.”  
  
“Bill,” Doc spat. “What in the hell are you doing here?”  
  
“Doc Holliday. Now, you may just be my favourite person on this fine planet.”  
  
“You _died_!”   
  
“So did you. Right?”  
  
“How are you here?”  
  
William shrugged. “Karma works in mysterious ways.”  
  
“You should be nothin’ but bones.”  
  
“Yet here we both stand.” William crossed his feet at his ankles. “I hear there’s a curse for those Earp’s these days. You seen how they go around tryn’a police this town? Man, if history don’t repeat itself. Always sticking up for someone who lacks _guts_ and a _voice_.” His eyes sparkled as realisation dawned over Doc’s face. “They’re a damn sight better to look at than their great, great grandaddy, that much I will say. It’s too bad. The littlest one? Ain't she just a peach?”  
  
In the blink of an eye, Doc had drawn his pistol and pointed it straight ahead. “You’ll do well to leave her alone, or do I need to remind you how you died?”  
  
William smirked. “Think real careful now son, was it by that gun?”  
  
It was not. Doc’s mind flashed to Peacemaker, wishing Wynonna was there. Only a moment later did the puzzle finally click into place. His blue eyes went wide.  
  
Peacemaker didn’t kill Bill Brocius.   


  
  
  
Waverly woke hours later, after having nearly fell out of bed. Her bed at the homestead had been against the wall for the last couple of months and she’d grown used to being able to roll over into it. She inched backwards into the safety of the bed without thought until she bumped into someone.   
  
Her eyes flew open, body stiffening until she heard Nicole sigh. That’s right. Now that she could see the room, Waverly knew where she was. The tension gradually subsided.   
  
It was cold, she knew that. She tucked her arm back under the covers.   
  
Waverly couldn’t help but think of home. Wynonna usually left a heater on for her.   
  
The light spilling in from between the blinds was dim, late winter sun no doubt hidden behind snow clouds. It had gotten to the point in the season where it became difficult to tell the time based on the light. The days had lengthened almost without her noticing. Still, it was probably close to being time to get up and face the day, and last night.   
  
Sleep had been disjointed and her head felt three times its usual size, at _least_ . Waverly never dealt well with hangovers. Being sick, yes. Self-inflicted pain, no.   
  
Closer to the edge of the bed was cold, she noted. It was warmer in the middle, like she’d been there a while. Nicole too.   
  
It was strange to wake up beside her, Waverly wouldn’t try to pretend differently. The times she did share a bed she was still used to waking up with Champ sprawled half across her and having to thump or prod at him to get him to move off her.   
  
Waverly wondered what it would have been like to wake up with Nicole using her body as a pillow. She wondered how Nicole would feel.   
  
Waverly listened. Nicole’s slow, steady breathing undoubtedly meant a deep sleep.   
  
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth bit down gently. Waverly wouldn’t get the chance again. She didn’t need to talk herself into it very much at all. Waverly inched backwards until she felt Nicole’s body, tucking herself into it. A hand made it to Waverly’s hip and she blindly felt behind to take it hostage, pulling until Nicole’s arm was around her.   
  
It was nice. Soft and warm.   
  
After a minute, Waverly dared to brush her thumb over a knuckle. A moment passed and she did it again. She did it until her eyes grew heavy and sleep reclaimed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appreciate all the kindness from you guys so far.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning had been bizarre.    
  
The whole night had, of course, been equally as difficult to fathom as a genuine occurrence, but there was something especially surreal about waking up —for the second time of the day— beside an attractive woman who Waverly could barely take her eyes off. Mainly the part where it didn’t feel strange at all, it felt… nice.    
  
She pulled up at the curb about two blocks from Pussy Willows. A car was parked in front. “You park here?”   
  
Nicole unclipped her seatbelt, grateful for the ride to go pick up her car. “Most of the time. Is that weird?”   
  
“Totally.”   
  
Nicole laughed. “It’s more of a safety thing,” she explained, eyeing Waverly’s still-damp hair from the shower and how fresh-faced she looked without makeup despite a sure lack of sleep last night. “Thanks for the ride.”   
  
“Thanks for last night.”    
  
It had hardly been an inconvenience to have Waverly stay at her place overnight. In the same bed, no less. The only thing Nicole had gotten stuck on was how she woke up wrapped around Waverly like she was a goddamn snake. Of course she’d listened to gauge if Waverly was sleeping and separated any point of contact after confirming that, yes, indeed she was. Nicole could only imagine the awkward apology had she been awake.  
  


Nicole smiled in return and reached for the door handle when Waverly’s hand upon hers caused her to stop.    
  
“What’s your name?” Waverly asked softly, hand unmoving. “Your real one.”   
  
“Ruby,” Nicole said, her stomach twisting at the lie.    
  
“Your mother give you that name?” Waverly needed to know and she cared little for the way she knew she prodded. She couldn’t help it. “You know a lot more about me. I don't even know your name.”   
  


“It's for my safety, ma’am.”   
  


“Don't ‘ma’am’ me!”   
  


Nicole’s amusement was displayed all over her face. “Look, I don't know that you wouldn't be waiting for me in a dark alley after work one night, follow me home…”   
  


Waverly exploded into laughter. “Oh, right!”   
  


“Not saying I wouldn't  _ like  _ that again,” Nicole shrugged. “In fact…”   
  


“Shut up.”

  
Nicole smiled when she saw the extra colour to Waverly's cheeks. Some of her hair had fallen from behind her ear and Nicole lifted her hand to tuck it back. “My name…”

With Waverly's keen eyes on hers in an instant, Nicole could barely breathe as she leaned into her ear. “Is Ruby,” she said, pulling back enough to deliver a quick kiss to a soft cheek.   
  
  
  


 

  
Wynonna’s truck had been outside the homestead when Waverly returned. She sucked in a deep breath, readying herself for a potential shit storm when she walked inside, but as luck would have it she made it all the way to her room and changed her clothes, applied natural tones of makeup, and threw her hair into something resembling a style without an interruption of any kind.   
  
Luck had to end some time.    
  
It came to an abrupt halt when she walked into the kitchen for a quick breakfast.    
  
Wynonna sat on the countertop with a steaming mug of what would only be coffee. They exchanged a blank glance, though Waverly felt anxiety spike at the sight of her sister. She swallowed and reached beside her for some bread, slipping two pieces into the toaster and wordlessly crossed the kitchen for the butter.    
  
“Where are you off to?” Wynonna asked, as if Waverly’s departure was an inconvenience of monumental proportions.    
  
For a moment, Waverly was relieved. It was easier to be defensive rather than vulnerable. She lowered her arm to her side, showing Wynonna her outfit, particularly showing off the logo’d Shorty’s shirt. “I don’t wear this for fun.”   
  
“Where were you last night?”   
  
“A friend’s.”   
  
Wynonna huffed out a laugh. “Right.”   
  
“Where were you?”   
  
“Here. Waiting for you to get back so we could scream at each other and throw plates or glasses around the place like normal people.”   
  
Guilt pulled at Waverly’s throat at the thought of Wynonna waiting up for her. “Normal people don’t do that. And since when have we ever been normal?”   
  
Wynonna side-eyed her. “I don’t know, you were wearing your big bitch shoes last night, I probably would have thrown  _ something  _ at you,” she said candidly.   
  
“Then it’s a good job I didn’t come home.”   
  
“You were with her, weren’t you?”   
  
Waverly looked away in guilt and ran her tongue over her lips. Once she turned back, any trace of apology had vanished. “So?”   
  
Wynonna chuckled. “So.”    
  
Waverly worried the mug Wynonna held between her hands would come flying her way any second. “Look, I’m okay. I told you, Ruby has no involvement in this case. I was proving a point.”   
  
“Thanks for clearing that up, Waves. Here I was thinking you were being an immature, reckless, stubborn piece o’ work. You were proving a point. Wow, my bad.”   
  
“Okay, yeah, I was! I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I said and I’m sorry we fought, and I’m sorry you were worried. But I won’t apologise for trusting my gut. Ruby’s not a threat.”

 

Wynonna remained unconvinced. “You wanna know your biggest weakness?”   
  
“Enlighten me.”   
  
“Your desire to find the good in everybody you meet, and when there’s nothing there you invent it because it’s easier than admitting you were wrong and that people can be worse than any monster we will ever face.”   
  
Waverly’s eyes darkened. “We’re not allowed to psychoanalyse each other, remember? Or this another case of one rule for me, another for you?”   
  
“Oh but I don’t need it, you do. I had tons of this shit, baby girl. Too much. You were the youngest and you didn’t even get one session with a shrink. You had to put it all in a box and hide it away. Who knows what those dark corners of your head look like.”   
  
The toast popped and neither of them so much as blinked, staring each other down.    
  
In the end, Waverly broke first.    
  
Eyes hot, she blinked back the tears and took a steadying breath. “I didn’t come back here to fight.”    
  
“Neither did I!” Wynonna dismissed passionately. “It’s just… your face,” she sighed. If anything happened to her last night, Ruby would be a dead woman.    
  
“Mature,” Waverly spat, spinning on her heel. She pulled a coat on.   
  
“Where are you going?”    
  
“Work,” she replied shortly. “Come by when you decide to act your age.”   
  
“Hey, I haven’t been sitting here bickering with myself. When you’re ready to take part of the responsibility, give me a call.”   
  
“I did, you didn’t listen.”   
  
Wynonna watched Waverly’s retreating form and wanted to scream. She directed her frustration at the toaster, the burned crumbs from the last time she’d used it and forgot to clean up assaulting her nostrils. “Your toast!”   
  
“Choke on it!”   
  
Waverly left with her sister’s mouth hanging agape behind her, more frustrated than ever.    
  
  


 

Back in the day, William preferred a kill to be swift: a couple of well-aimed pops of his gun, a moment, and a dying breath. These days, since returning to his body after too many years, he would rather take his time. Wyatt had blew out his insides, killed him with a sawn-off shotgun where he’d fallen back into the warm river and struck his head on a rock. He remembered agony, and then nothing.    
  
Discovering Wyatt had long since died, the disappointment at not being responsible for his death eventually disappeared. If there was one thing Wyatt loved more than anything, it was his family. William had no doubt in his mind that Wyatt would be watching over the Earp women, and it would destroy him to see some of the things he would do to them, to make them pay for what he did. After all, Earp blood was Earp blood.    
  
Wynonna couldn’t ignore a damsel in distress, and the youngest one, Waverly, William thought she just might lead a search for a missing bunny rabbit if the need ever arose. By keeping the victims female, it kept Wynonna interested. He’d seen her and her associates around the town and club looking for clues. By making the kills messy, slashing deep into their skin and pulling their intestines out like he’d somehow lost something in there made sure Wynonna had to look into it. She was just like Wyatt.   
  
And where Wynonna went, Waverly followed.    
  
Wyatt’s greatest weakness had never been his women, it was family. Wynonna’s single greatest weakness was Waverly.    
  
Whichever plan that the revenants he’d met along the way concocted to kill this particular Earp heir, none of them came close to killing her. Oh, but he would. William knew to do it from the inside out. Kill her heart, and the rest would follow.   
  
  


William had seen Waverly with Champ at the club, had seen their history so clearly through their short but telling interaction, and he had followed Champ to a house where a young blond had answered the door. Certain men were a type of animal easy to recognise. William had been one ever since he could remember. Women were always easy to get to back in the day, as was the case now.   
  
Perhaps too easy, he mused.    
  
It was not difficult to get close to her, almost as easy as it was to squeeze the life out of her and plunge a knife deep into her throat and then abdomen, pulling roughly, hacking until the hole was large enough to push his hand into.    
  
He left Stephanie Jones’s body in an alley several blocks from Pussy Willows, dumped it in the snow with a push of his foot to turn her onto her back. Her glazed blue eyes stared up vacantly toward the sky as blood soaked down from her neck to her chest and abdomen to her knees. Her intestines and stomach bulged out of her abdominal cavity. William arranged her hand over it, cupping them. In the end, that was how she was discovered.   
  
  
  
  


 

  
Nicole had been at work for a couple of hours. She’d seen Wynonna throwing her the occasional death glare from the bar and deduced that she probably wasn’t there to watch a dance.    
  
It was early, not many of the regular crowd had come in for late afternoon entertainment so far, so Nicole went through the back and got dressed. She walked through the club with her head held high, using her height to her advantage when she stood beside Wynonna.    
  
“You must really enjoy the shows.”   
  
Wynonna mulled it over, unsurprised to see her and just a little amused with the attempt to assert authority simply because they were on unequal territory. “They’re all right.”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“But I’ve seen better. You don't do as much as the other girls.”   
  


Nicole took a step back and bent her leg, sitting onto a stool next to her. “What?”   
  


“The dancing,” Wynonna clarified. “Some of the girls get all up in there, flash a lot more, tease a lot more. You're good, I just think the others work a little more for it, y'know? No offence. A dirty lap dance is an art.”   
  


“They're also illegal.”   
  


Wynonna smirked. “The cops don't really give a shit around here.”   
  


“Is that right?”   
  


“Oh, yeah. A lot goes on around here, so they sorta… pick and choose their battles.”   
  


Nicole inclined her head thoughtfully. She didn't like the vibe she was getting, though she wasn't sure exactly what  _ it  _ was. “Maybe you should do the same,” she suggested.   
  


“I already did.”   
  


Nicole stared, unable to figure her out. “You got a problem?”   
  


“You're new here, right? Danced onto the scene right about the time of those murders?”

  
The accusation was clear and heavy but Nicole was unable to stop a smile forming. “You're barking up the wrong tree, trust me.”

  
That was a joke if Wynonna had ever heard one. How was she supposed to do that. “Trust you? Look, you may have fooled everyone else into thinking you're Little Miss Innocent, including my sister, but I'm not quite as naive. Let's just say I've learned to trust my gut, and it's telling me there is  _ way  _ more to you than a glorified stripper.”

  
“Yeah, we're actually  _ people _ . Quite the headline.”

  
“Leave her alone.”

  
“Who, Waverly?”

  
“Yeah, so consider this a first and final warning. You don’t want me to repeat myself.”

  
Nicole’s posture stiffened slightly. The last thing she needed was to get off to a shitty start with Waverly’s sister, yet there she was. “Are you threatening me?”

  
“She thinks you’re one of the good guys, not that's she's got a stellar track record of putting her faith in the right people or anything,” Wynonna said. “But I know you can tell she trusts you, I know there’s a huge chance you’re playing, and I know I'll kill you if you touch her.”

  
“Anything else?”

  
“Just one more thing.” Wynonna leaned her elbow on the bar and pushed a couple of fingers through the hair by her temple. She glanced behind Nicole to see Dolls suitably distracted on the phone. An expression of inexplicable annoyance passed over her face. “You smell amazing, what perfume do you wear?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Later, having received the call about another body and making quick time in getting over there, Dolls and Wynonna were gathered around BBD’s office at the station. A small file was laid out on the table before them and Dolls had updated the board with Stephanie’s photograph. This time was different because they knew the victim. Well, Waverly did. Wynonna knew of her and had seen her around enough, heard enough to form an opinion which wasn’t particularly favourable.    
  
Since Champ Hardy had blew through the office a little while ago looking slightly put out, crocodile tears in place, ranting on about security cameras and finding out who did this to him, Wynonna got the message loud and clear: they’d been screwing.    
  
He confirmed it when asked, and when Dolls asked if Waverly knew, he looked sheepish before confirming that yes, a voicemail had been sent to her phone.   
  
Wynonna had wanted to drive her fist into his face. It was barely five minutes since he’d been head over heels in love with her sister and she had to tell him to back off. As she was  _ trying  _ to be professional most days now, she had to refrain from such temptation and asked Dolls to get rid of him from her sight before she lost it.   
  
Waverly could be dragged into this.    
  
There was a knock at the door.    
  
“Enter,” Dolls granted once he’d flipped the board around and Wynonna had covered the files.   
  
Sheriff Nedley walked inside and closed the door behind him. He tipped his head at Wynonna. “Earp.”   
  
“Randy.”   
  
Nedley heard about Stephanie’s murder and he was tired of his people being picked off one by one. He had to do more, or at least try. “Xavier.”   
  
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?”    
  


“This animosity has gone on long enough, don't you think?”   
  


Dolls looked to Wynonna who shrugged noncommittally. “What do you propose?”   
  


“You show me some of your cards, I show you mine,” Nedley offered with little emotion in his voice, shoulders hunched making him appear smaller than he was. “Some people say they’ve seen ya, is all. Around that club. Now I know you like your secrets but in the interest of the women of this town and those...dancers down there, might be an idea to join forces and put aside any differences until all this blows over. What do you say?”   
  
“Are you suggesting we’re incompetent?” Wynonna wondered. However small, this case now involved Waverly. No way in hell was she bringing in Mr. By The Book. “Because I swear to God, whatever dickwad is doing this? They’ll pay.”   
  
Nedley was frustrated. He should have known Wynonna would shut him down right off the bat. He’d work on his timing for next time. “No, Earp. I’m saying I have experience dealing with this kind of shit.”   
  
“Well get your own shit, this is ours.”   
  
Sensing rising tempers, Dolls butted in. “Appreciate the offer, Sheriff. We’ll call you if we need you.”   
  
Nedley left the office dejected, in two minds whether or not to keep his own operation going at that club. He didn’t know Nicole Haught very well but what he did know, he liked. She was a nice girl. A little smart-mouthed and stubborn, but kind. He just hoped she wasn’t too kind.   
  
“Who’s this asshole think he is, coming in here asking to be involved?” Wynonna ranted. “Speaking of assholes, where the hell is Doc? He’s been ignoring me all morning.”

  
Dolls felt a pant pocket in search for his phone. “I'll call him in, you call Waverly?”

 

“Mmm, maybe we should switch?”

 

He’d already dialed Doc's number. “She'll pick up,” he said confidently. “Just don't be a —”

 

“Bitch? How dare you?”

 

“Pain.” She could be a huge pain in the ass —and was, a lot of the time— but he wouldn't have her any other way. “Maybe you could apologise.”

 

Wynonna listened to the line ring, waiting for Waverly to answer. She pointed a finger at him. “Watch your mouth.”    
  
  


  
  
  


Waverly stood nervously in the BBD office having raced over part way through her shift, and barely remembered to knock before she’d barrelled through the door. She closed it behind her, a guarded expression crossing her face once she saw Wynonna. “You okay? There's an emergency?”

 

“Yeah. Seen the paper?”    
  
“No?”   
  
Wynonna pulled one across the table and lifted the top corner as she read. “Wynonna Earp: biggest bitch. Whole town treated for shock.” An arched brow was all she received for her efforts. “Tough crowd. Rest in peace attempt at humour, I guess.”

  
“At least you'll always have that, right?”

  
“Waves, c'mon.”

  
“No, you were a bitch.”

  
“I know.”

  
“Are a bitch,” Waverly muttered stubbornly. 

  
Hurt flickered over Wynonna’s face. She drew her shoulders in tight, a hard push of air blowing out between her lips. “It hurts when you say it,” she admitted lightly.   
  


There was nothing quite like seeing her sister emotionally vulnerable. It cut through Waverly no matter what, always. She softened considerably. “You hurt me, too.”    
  


“I'm sorry if you're sorry.”   
  


Waverly couldn’t deny her, though she knew they were due a talk to discuss things they’d said in the heat of the moment. Now, however, was not the time. She would wait. “I'm sorry. Friends?”   
  


“Always, ya little witch.” There was no other way to explain what was going on without Waverly freaking out and Wynonna dreaded the words coming out of her mouth. “So I called you in for more than an apology,” she confessed. “And I'm gonna need you to try to keep it together. I’ve got you, always.”

  
“Okay?”

  
“There was another murder. This girl, you kinda knew her.”

  
Ice ran through Waverly's veins. Eyes wide, her heart thudded slow and sick inside her chest in the stretched moment before she was able to speak. “Ruby’s not...?”

  
“No, no, no, not her. Don't...worry. Stephanie. Champ came by earlier.”

  
“Oh.” 

 

Waverly had gone still, and Wynonna rose from her seat and perched on the edge of the table to be closer to her. “You with me?”

 

“Yeah.” Waverly squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head gently. “Um, they were screwing, not sure for how long,” she said distractedly, clearly moved and in shock that Stephanie was dead. “Are you sure it's her?”

  
“Pretty sure.”

  
“I mean, she's dead or she's not?”

  
A strikingly clear vision of Stephanie’s body shot to the front of Wynonna’s mind, and the late lunch she was embarrassed to have lost several minutes later with Dolls rubbing large circles at her back.    
  
“I saw...what was left, I'm sorry. It’s her.”

  
“When?”

  
“Earlier. I was close when someone found her a few blocks from the club. Not the murder location, just the dumping ground.”

  
“You were close to the club? Why?”

  
“I was there.” By the look of confusion on Waverly’s face, Wynonna explained in more detail than she wanted to. “Remember we both apologised for shitty past behaviour and now we're bff’s again? So, I kind of did a pop-by with Ruby.”

  
“You what?”

  
“Let's focus on what's important right now: a girl you know was murdered. One who was screwing your ex long-term boyfriend. I'm assuming you got the voicemail that nutsack sent?”

  
Waverly confirmed that yes, she did indeed receive and listen to some of Champ's voicemail and yes it made her angry. That was not the same as being jealous, and not even remotely close to wanting the girl dead. If anything, she felt pity. The reality dawned on her. “Whoa. I'm not a suspect?”

  
“I mean, if this were a regular case?”

  
“Considering there’s no boyfriend of hers and Champ’s alibi is airtight… you'd be our prime suspect,” Dolls said, catching the end of their conversation on the way back from his office after finally speaking to Doc who had demanded all three of them stay put until he got here. Dolls knew Waverly was the last person who would have committed such a crime, but he had to ask. “Where were you last night? Initial reports puts her death at around —”   
  
“She didn’t do it!” Wynonna couldn’t count the amount of times Waverly had thrown a fit as a child whenever she saw rat traps, or the amount of spiders or moths she insisted on catching under a glass to release outside. No way in hell was that little freak capable of murder.

  
“Of course I didn’t do it!” Waverly echoed indignantly.    
  
“I know, but we’ve still got a dead body and a good motive.”   
  
“Then do your  _ job _ , Deputy Marshal. Find the bastard who did this.”   
  
Dolls inhaled deeply through his nose, mouth tight. Wynonna was in his personal space, doing her utmost to appear threatening. He looked down and smirked, catching the way the corner of her mouth pulled at the sight. “I believe that’s  _ our  _ job, and since technically I’m your superior, it’s my duty to tell you to get to work.”   
  
Wynonna stared at him. God, he was a dick. She loved it. “No can do, mon frere. My superiority complex requires me to appear in charge at all times. Gonna need you to come with.”   
  
“Don’t ever call me that.”   
  
Waverly flashed her eyes. “Yeah, I’m going as long as I’m not under arrest?”   
  
Wynonna spun around. She pointed a finger. “Hey, you’re still under station or home arrest. There’s a maniac out there.”   
  


“We live in Purgatory. When isn’t there?”   
  
“Don’t throw logic in my face. I’m older, and I don’t want you running around by yourself.”   
  
“That’s sort of ridiculous?” Waverly said.

  
“So’s your face.”

  
“And I have work! I can't just take off. Again.”

  
“You don't even officially work there anymore," Wynonna reasoned.

  
“I like it, and I said I’d help out today.”

  
“Alright, well I'll stop by and clear it, don't worry.”

  
“This really isn't fair,” Waverly deadpanned.   
  
“Until Dolls pulls his thumb outta his ass, it’s the best I can do. I’m sorry babe, but unless you have a bodyguard, you’re staying put.”   
  
Upon being pulled into the conversation, he said, “Doc wants you here. He’s on his way in, says it’s important we’re all here.”   
  
Waverly knew there was no point arguing outright, and frankly she’d had enough of that lately to keep her going a good long while. “Fine, I’ll come back. I just need to— I won’t be long. I’ll meet you guys here?”   
  
Wynonna could see the eagerness on her sister’s face as clear as day. She knew where Waverly was going and wanted to say no, no way in hell. Sure, Ruby also had an airtight alibi for Stephanie’s murder but that didn’t mean something wasn’t off with her.    
  
“Waves…”   
  
“Please,” Waverly begged. “An hour, tops.”   
  
Wynonna shrugged, supposing that last night was a prime opportunity for an attack if Ruby was ever going to carry one out. “Fine. No point fighting you on it. Can’t promise Doc won’t come after you if you’re late, though.”    
  
Waverly knew Wynonna would lead the search, that much didn’t need to be said. She didn’t need to be told twice either she thought, shooting off before anybody could change their minds.   
  
  


 

  
  
Six months ago, if anybody told her she’d spend this much time at Pussy Willows, Waverly would have laughed in their face. She drove there on autopilot now, knew the fastest route there and back except today there had been an influx of midday traffic thanks to road closures due to the weather and it had taken longer than usual. Her stomach had churned the whole way there, hands nervously gripping or tapping the steering wheel, grumbling in an uncharacteristic show of impatience at drivers who simply drove safely in current conditions.    
  
Nicole had driven the same way last night, and had cleared a path to the car while Waverly had taken a quick shower upon waking up this morning.   
  
Waverly drove past where she had last seen Nicole, car no longer in the space it had occupied, and continued on to the parking lot. She spotted her car parked at the front and parked her Jeep in the nearest space available: the one next to Nicole’s, unbothered that her eagerness to get into the space almost lost both of them some paint.    
  
She pulled the club’s door open and immediately lifted her head higher in hopes of catching a flash of red hair. Waverly didn’t realise someone had taken her arm until a further step was prevented. She looked up at the bouncer and frowned; he knew her face the same as she knew his.    
  
“Waverly?” he asked.   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“You’re out. Don’t let me see you here again.”   
  


Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”   
  
“Look, I do what I’m told, and I’ve been told to ‘politely but firmly’ send you on your way,” he said. “So, beat it. Please.”   
  
She straightened her spine. “There must have been a mistake. I know Ruby. Ask her.”   
  
“Ruby made the request, ma’am.”   
  
Ma’am. Waverly pulled her arm free and left in a storm.    
  
  


  
  


Nicole turned away from her reflection in the mirror in disgust. Another girl had been murdered. Strangled, throat slashed until she was almost decapitated, and gutted. This undercover gig, it hadn’t helped anyone. It hadn’t changed a single thing. Part of her had jumped at the challenge simply because those sorts of opportunities were incredibly far and few between and she was tired of getting the short end of the straw with her last superior who favoured even the most complacent of policemen over her. However, the biggest reason she’d taken it on was to take a dangerous person off the streets and let them rot in prison.    
  
Maybe she’d been too distracted.    
  
She liked Waverly; way too much for her to get caught up in this shitstorm of a murder spree, and was grateful of her own authority to be able to order Darrell, one of the bouncers, to refuse her entry should she try to come by anymore.    
  
Nicole picked up her phone and scanned over her newest notes related to the case. It would be a few days at least before an autopsy report was issued but she had a few facts she could work with: same killing style as the other women, death reported to be between midnight to four AM, and Stephanie had blood and skin cells underneath her nails with results already being rushed through the necessary channels. She was also the first victim who didn’t work as a dancer.   
  
Security cameras from the club and nearby were being looked into and Nicole begrudgingly updated her file to add another woman to the list and hated herself a little bit for the brief sensation of relief which passed through her at the victim not being one of the dancers from the club.    
  
Nicole had grown to care for them, especially Rosita. If they’d met under different circumstances, Nicole thought they’d be good friends. But good friends didn’t lie to each other.    
  
She sent Nedley an e-mail of her plan to cut the shift short, wanting instead to get out there and follow a lead herself. She didn’t think he’d react well to it and planned on conveniently forgetting to check for a response before she got out there.    
  
“Hey!”   
  
Nicole startled deeply, already on edge. “Ffff— Waverly. Jesus.” She held a hand to her racing heart. “Give a girl some warning.”   
  
Waverly didn’t appear to be in the mood for anything other than an answer. “You want to explain why you had me  _ barred _ ?”   
  


“You want to explain how you got back here?”

  
“I picked the lock.”   
  


“You...forced entry,” Nicole surmised, dumbfounded. Waverly had just  _ admitted  _ to breaking the law and didn’t look remotely concerned.   
  


“Yes!” Waverly exploded. “You know how long it took?” It looked easier than it was, and she’d probably definitely be late back to BBD. “Why did you tell him to send me away?”   
  


“There was another murder. Not here, but close. Too close, and I don’t want you here when all of this is going down, I told you. I keep telling you.” Nicole shook her head. “I can't believe you  _ broke in _ .”   
  


“I would never usually do that.”   
  


“Only on Friday’s, huh?” She sighed. “You're lucky the cops or feds didn't catch you. They’re still taking statements in the area.”   
  


“I can sense a cop a mile off.”   
  
Nicole really hoped she didn't look as deer in the headlights as she felt. Fucking hell, this woman… “That’s a skill, along with lockpicking, you’ve mastered working in a bar?”   
  
“God, that doesn’t  _ matter _ , I’m here to…”    
  
“To do what?” Waverly appeared to come to an embarrassing conclusion if the extra colour to her cheeks was anything to go by and Nicole decided to save her from some of it. “I can take care of myself,” she said softly. “Trust me, I've made it through more than a few hairy situations at work.”

  
“Hairier than this?”

  
Nicole sighed. She wasn't getting rid of her by the looks of it but luckily she'd started earlier than usual and had, at most, a couple of hours left before she cut it short. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about her being there at night. “You can't stay long.”

  
“I know, I have to get back.”   
  
“And I’m walking you to your car.”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
“You can’t keep doing this, you know.”   
  
Waverly knew that. She knew it was ridiculous that she be anywhere near the place but she didn’t know what else to do. She felt like crawling out of her own skin and she didn’t know why. “I know.”   
  
“I mean it.”   
  
“I got it!”   
  
“Just don’t talk to anyone you don’t know, and if I look up and you’re not in your seat I swear I’ll lose my damn mind.” Nicole wasn’t even close to kidding. “I know I have no right to dictate what you can or can’t do but it's my one day off tomorrow and I don't want you anywhere close to here.” She noticed Waverly trying to control her breathing and spoke softly. “Hey.”   
  


Waverly choked out a laugh. “I heard about what happened to that girl. When I heard, for a second I thought— I thought you were—"

  
Nicole touched her hand. “I'm not.”

  
Waverly turned her hand over to hold it properly, a crushing sensation beginning at the base of her throat and spreading upward. Her eyes brimmed. “I know.”

  
Rosita walked through to the back and Nicole turned, leading Waverly down a small corridor until they reached a back room for some privacy. It was the same one as they'd been in before. As soon as the light was on and the door clicked shut, Nicole leaned down and took Waverly in her arms. “See? Totally real.” she stood there for a moment, the sensation of having her in her arms more satisfying than Nicole thought possible. As she began to pull away, Waverly tightened her arms in response.

  
Nicole melted into it, her hand smoothing over Waverly's back. She leaned down to press a kiss into her hair. Waverly looked up and Nicole felt the tension like it was a real, tangible thing. Waverly had mastered the art of begging and demanding in one single, charged stare, darting between Nicole's eyes to her mouth. 

  
Nicole swallowed.   
  


Waverly tilted her head up, breathing a shallow breath against Nicole’s mouth. She could feel her lips, so soft, and opened hers a barest hint to deliver a tentative kiss.    
  
Nicole hadn’t even begun to kiss her back when Dolls burst into the room. Nicole pulled back quickly, twisting around with displeasure clearly displayed.   
  
His eyes widened upon seeing them together. “Whoa.”   
  
“Can I help you?” Nicole asked pointedly, vaguely remembering seeing him around. Was he law?   
  
“Sorry. Was looking for my girl, she’s—” Dolls heard the fast-approaching footfall and turned, a smile breaking out over his face at Wynonna’s appearance. It was only partially false. “Here. Excuse me.” He sent a quick yet pointed look to Waverly.    
  
Get out. Now.    
  
She didn’t want to. God, did she not want to. First the traffic, then the lock-picking… sure it had delayed her but enough for the cavalry to play out a retrieve mission?   
  
They were alone again.    
  
“I have to go,” Waverly mumbled as Nicole stepped towards her and gently backed her into the closest wall. Her pulse raced and her hands betrayed her with their ascent to thick waves of red hair as Nicole nosed her neck and delivered the most achingly soft kiss she’d ever been given. Waverly’s eyes dropped shut when she felt the warm wetness of Nicole’s mouth against her skin. “We can’t do this now,” she gasped.    
  
Nicole pulled back and looked down, body thrumming with adrenaline. She wondered if she looked quite as wanton as Waverly did. It was a good job Waverly had a sensible head on her shoulders. Jesus Christ. She was at  _ work _ , she couldn’t be doing this. She was a professional. She had never once gotten caught up at work like this.   
  
Nicole nodded and reluctantly retracted, trying to ignore the ridiculous sense of death if she didn’t get to kiss Waverly senseless some time soon. She backed away several paces. “That was so unprofessional, I’m so sorry if I—”   
  
Suddenly Waverly was upon her, small, soft hands either side of her face. Nicole saw the unmasked desire in them, saw Waverly's eyes drop to her mouth and groaned internally. God damn it, she couldn’t do this. She was on duty.    
  
She couldn’t, she couldn’t, she couldn’t.    
  
She did.    
  


To Nicole’s credit, it was Waverly who kissed her first. Nicole was walked backwards and fell against the couch, Waverly’s legs either side of her lap and Nicole responded quickly, tipping her head up to chase retreating lips until they were joined once more. Waverly’s fingers pushed through long, soft hair and held on to keep her in place. Nicole’s lips were so soft and warm and Waverly leaned more heavily against her; a long, deep kiss heating her entire body.    
  
Each press of Nicole’s tongue and mouth against hers dissolved some of the tension in her body that she hadn’t realised she’d held onto. Waverly’s mouth slid over Nicole’s hotly, relishing in the sensation of the hands running up and down her back, gripping low on her hips.    
  
Waverly had imagined this before, more times than she would admit, lots of different ways, though she’d never predicted the addiction to Nicole’s mouth. Nicole kissed Waverly’s chin and nudged gently, making her intention to wanting Waverly to bare her neck clear, but Waverly had none of it. She tipped her head down and held the side of Nicole’s face to bring their mouths back together.    
  
Waverly began to get lost; where everything else began to fade away and it was just the two of them, however a loud knock at the door cut right through it and had Nicole tighten her hold of Waverly’s hips: small but shapely inside her hands.   
  
Their kisses slowed and Waverly kissed her one last time, softly, before her eyes fluttered open and she sat back on Nicole’s legs. She searched Nicole’s face hesitantly and mirrored the excited smile that was directed towards her.     
  
Waverly lifted off her, bracing her weight on one hand at the back of the couch and swinging her leg around as she twisted her body free. Nicole followed, pressing a firm, messy kiss to Waverly’s smiling mouth before she jumped up and offered a hand down.   
  
“So, you’re okay?” Waverly checked.   
  
“Oh, I’m okay.”    
  
She tugged Nicole closer but refrained from another kiss. Any longer and that bang at the door would be a foot going through it. “I have to go,” she said reluctantly. “I’ll talk to you later?”   
  
“We should talk,” Nicole agreed. “Mainly about your criminal activity.”   
  
Waverly snickered and was powerless to resist returning the soft kiss Nicole gave her.    
  
  


  
  


  
Wynonna walked in long, quick strides to keep up with Waverly, her blue eyes squinting in the harsh winter sun once they were outside. The snow was blinding in some lights but wasn’t enough to stop her seeing the residual smudge of lipstick over Waverly’s mouth, or the way her lips had swelled slightly.    
  
She wanted to tell her that her timing  _ sucked _ , but when she opened her mouth and saw fear flash through her sister’s eyes, Wynonna couldn’t do it. She sighed instead. “Better?”   
  
Waverly nodded.    
  
Dolls came up behind them, close to Wynonna’s side as he glanced around. “What’s the plan?”   
  
“I’m riding with Waves, meet us back at BBD?” She saw Doc exit the club and head over, eyes sharp and serious in concern. It was an emotion three of them shared. “No pit stops.”   
  


Once they were on the road, the silence between them became strained and Waverly's eyes didn't leave the road. Wynonna glanced at her for the dozenth time in several minutes. 

 

“Dolls and I kissed.”

 

Approaching a stop sign, Waverly pressed on the brake a little too hard. The car lurched. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, last night. It was weird. I'm sort of embarrassed.”

 

Waverly knew what Wynonna was doing. “Bad weird?”

 

“No, amazing weird. Like, I wanna do it again right now kinda weird. You know?”

 

God, did she. 

 

“I guess.”

 

Wynonna snorted and poked Waverly in the ribs. “You totally know!”

 

Waverly fought off the attack, a silly smile giving way to a laugh.    
  
  
  


 

  
The mood had significantly lowered since returning to the station.    
  
Doc pointed to Waverly, mouth downturned in anger. “You.”

  
She felt nervous under his stare. “Me?”  
  
“Save for the bathroom, you do not go anywhere yourself from now on, is that clear?” he asked. “And you absolutely do not leave without so much as a word to us. Doing so would be a mistake I’m not willing to let you make.”  
  
“I’m sorry about last night Doc, but don’t overreact.”  
  
“Overreact?” Doc exploded. “I have not even begun!”  
  
He’d arrived at BBD in a hurry, mere minutes after Waverly had left, and he’d given Dolls and Wynonna the bare minimum of information: that he knew who the killer was and that they were in a world of trouble. Despite sharing his concern, Wynonna didn’t like when he lost his cool, especially when it was directed at Waverly.   
  
“Doc, c’mon, okay. She knows.”  
  
Doc took a moment to compose himself. “Anybody else on that chart, you can go ahead and forget them. The poor excuse for a man we are looking for, William, is the only one we should be focusing on. He goes by Bill, or he used to, and he is as old as I am. We go back. Way back.”  
  
“He’s a rev?” Wynonna fired at him.   
  
“That’s the thing!” He was on the edge of his seat, hands outstretched on the table. “He is not.”  
  
“Bill.” Waverly let the name bounce around in her head until she began to piece bits together. “Bill. Wait, Bill, as in Bill Brocius? Curly Bill?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Waverly’s brows knotted, a line forming between them. “But he didn’t…”  
  
“Exactly,” Doc said, relieved she had the full picture.   
  
Wynonna glanced to Dolls who, reassuringly, appeared as lost as she did. “Okay, slow down. Let’s imagine for a hot second that I flunked history and use human Google for my Earp history. What’s going on?”  
  
“He was involved in the shootout,” Waverly said. “Caused it. He murdered the Deputy Marshal and taunted Wyatt any chance he got.”  
  
“He did,” Doc growled. “He was on Wyatt from the second he got into town; hated him. Wyatt was taking his territory, unofficially  policing the town, and Bill and those cowboys would have done anything to stop it and spill Earp blood; mine too.”  
  
Stories that Ward used to tell her and Willa began to filter into Wynonna’s subconscious. “Right, right, right. The shootout. Wyatt shot and killed him?”  
  
“Not there,” he dismissed. “And not with Peacemaker.”  
  
“What do you mean, not with Peacemaker? He rose from the dead by himself?”  
  
“It was later,” Waverly said. “Virgil got hurt, Morgan was killed, and Wyatt shot him into the river in revenge.”  
  
“With a shotgun,” Doc added. “Nothin’ special about it. Law issued.”  
  
“Has to be a spell,” Dolls surmised to the agreement of everyone else.   
  
Wynonna was raring to go. Some asshole with a hard on for murder and a vendetta against her family, must be a day that ended in ‘y’. “So, what’s the plan?”  
  
“Dolls and I will head out separately,” Doc said. “Find out everything we can. I got a head start this morning, we can pick up where I left off. I suggest you ladies go on home.”  
  
Dolls winced the same time as Waverly and Wynonna slowly turned to look at each other.   
  
Wynonna stuck her hand in the air and despite his slight confusion, Doc addressed her. “What is it, Wynonna?”  
  
“Hey, hi, um… curious,” she chuckled. “You know I’m the heir, right?”  
  
“I am aware.”  
  
“Are you _aware_ of what year it is? ‘Cause it’s been a few since men could just go ordering women around like children. If you guys are in the field, so are we.”  
  
“I apologise, I know you are more qualified than all of us combined to do this,” Doc offered with sincerity. “But Bill wants Waverly. He got to Wyatt —really got to him— through Morgan and Virgil. He _killed_ Mogan. We can’t let that happen. I won’t let it happen. Not again.”  
  
The frown on Wynonna’s head smoothed out. “If he wants Waverly, he better be prepared to go to hell.”  
  
Waverly swallowed anxiously. Not being one of the most important people of a case suddenly didn’t feel like an insult. She had a feeling the next few days would be some she’d never forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, just wanted to thank you guys for the positive interaction I've received. Grateful for it, and you. 
> 
> Also, just a little note to say that I may split the final chapter into two parts because it's quite long.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to split the final chapter into two parts. It felt better to me instead of shoving like 15K down your throats in one go. Hopefully you agree!

Curly Bill’s revelation brought the tension to an uncomfortable level and Waverly couldn’t breathe inside the BBD office. They’d all been in full work mode and all she’d been able to think of were the death reports of the other girls and what Bill could do to her and, in turn, what that would do to Wynonna. It killed Waverly to think about and, in the end, she had to get some space. As soon as she stopped pacing and slipped into the nearest coat thrown haphazardly over the rack (Wynonna’s), she made off towards the door. They’d been about to leave a few times but Doc wouldn’t stop  _ talking _ and Dolls and Wynonna listened intently.    
  
“Coffee to go?” she asked Wynonna.   
  
“Hold fire, I’ll come with.”   
  
“I’ll be pouring coffee four rooms away, cops everywhere.”   
  
Doc had launched into a whole itinerary he’d made and Wynonna wanted to hear every part of it, including herself where she thought she could; like Waverly suggesting that they plan an afternoon meet with The Blacksmith. Wynonna had  _ heard _ about her, of course, but had never seen her in person. Curiosity had caught hold of her, as it had Doc, and she was going with him whether he wanted her to or not. He tried to tell her when he was going but Waverly was distracting her.    
  
Wynonna looked up. “Be quick about it.”   
  
Dolls picked up Stephanie’s file and held it out towards Waverly, uncomfortable with the photographs in there, knowing full well they would haunt her for a very long time, but they’d drive the point home if it hadn’t already been. Waverly read the name printed across the top and sobered. Their exchange was wordless but his point was clear to her.    
  
She clutched it to her chest as she left the office, closing the door behind her, and crossed the corridor to the front desk. She wanted to see if Nedley had spoken to Chrissy about Stephanie because she really didn’t want to be the one to break that sort of news. Waverly didn’t even know where she would start.   
  
It was fairly busy, shift changeover, and there were more officers than usual milling about, filling each other in on the daily happenings of the town and the upcoming estimated figures on the Wyatt Earp convention passing through town over the weekend and what safety measures needed prepping for the event.   
  
Waverly looked past them all to Nedley’s office, seeing two shadows inside. He was the shorter of the two, and the other belonging to a woman. Perhaps he had a meeting. She looked down to the file and put it on the desk, gingerly opening the cover until the glossy-edged photograph paperclipped to it almost came into vision. She couldn’t do it.    
  
The door to Nedley’s office swung open and his gruff “Hey!” snatched her attention immediately.   
  
Waverly looked up to see Nicole leaving the Sheriff’s office in a storm, blanking him entirely. Her eyes widened. She shoved the file in front of her face and ducked her head, feeling the rush of air at her neck when Nicole sped past her. Waverly kept her head low and twisted to look over her other shoulder to check the coast was clear.    
  
That was absolutely Nicole. Waverly would know that face anywhere.  She hadn’t been arrested. No, if she had been, she wouldn’t have been in Nedley’s office and left as innocuously as she had done. It was something else.   
  
Waverly knocked once and pushed his door open before he could form a response. Nedley glanced up from his desk, a little surprised at the intrusion. “Waverly.”   
  
“Sir.”   
  
“Any reason in particular you chose to burst in here?”   
  
Waverly had the sense to look sheepish. “Right. Sorry, Sheriff. I have a question.”   
  
“Well… alright. As long as you make it quick.” 

 

Right to the point, perfect. “Who was that woman you were talking to? Uh, red hair. Tall. Gorgeous, if you’re… into that,” she finished awkwardly upon his unimpressed expression. “I realise—”   
  
Nedley had all the time in the world for that particular Earp. He really did. But not now. Not when she was prodding. “Are you my secretary, Earp?”   
  
“No, sir.”    
  
“That’s what I thought. Now, my daily affairs are nowhere near as exciting as yours are, what with that sister of yours still hanging around. Why don’t you check in with her?”   
  
“Sheriff…”   
  
Nedley stood and reached for his stetson, politely ushering her out of his office. “What happens in my office stays in my office, understand? Just like you and yours.”   
  
“Yes, sir,” she sighed, dejected. 

 

“Waverly?” There was a pang in his chest the way she looked at him, reminded him of when she was a child: hopeful innocence. A stern tone accompanied his concern. “Keep yourself safe, you hear? For one reason or another, trouble follows your family like a bad smell. No need to seek it out.”   
  
“I was just curious about her, Sheriff. Sorry to bother you.”   
  
“Curiosity kills.”   
  
She neared the door and stopped. “Motivational speaking may be in your future yet,” she said, tapping his shoulder with the file still in her grasp. Feigned exasperation looked the same on Chrissy’s face as it did his and Waverly’s brow wrinkled. “Have you talked to Chrissy?”   
  
“Not yet.”   
  
Chrissy and Stephanie were never best friends, but they were old friends. It would still hurt. Waverly couldn’t bear to be the cause of her pain. “I know it’s not exactly fair of me to ask, but I really don’t want to make that call,” she said, voice sober.   
  
Nedley waved her off. “You leave that to me.”   
  
Waverly’s mouth pressed together in show of appreciation.    
  
“Hey!” Wynonna complained from across the desk, annoyed glare flashing over her face. “If you tell me you’re going to get coffee and expect me to trust you, maybe  _ actually  _ get coffee?”   
  
Waverly hurried over to her. “Sorry.”   
  
“What did he want?” It sounded like an accusation.     
  
“Nothing. I just—wondered if Chrissy knew yet.”   
  
“Right, sorry.” Wynonna berated herself for how insensitive she knew she could be. She slung an arm around Waverly and pulled her close “Come on, let’s go home. Coffee’s better there anyway.”   
  
  


  
  
  


The weapons, unless provided by Dolls, were typically kept hidden in the barn. Since arriving home, Wynonna had pulled them out and went through them methodologically; inspecting, cleaning, checking ammo numbers. This was new territory for her. Sure, undead pricks had used Waverly against her before, except this time a bullet to their head wouldn’t solve the problem. Peacemaker wouldn’t kill Bill.    
  
Out of habit, Wynonna still made sure it was fully loaded. All the other guns were too. She loaded two shells into a sawn-off shotgun.    
  
“Until that nutsack is back in his unmarked grave, I don’t want you to leave the house without this, okay?” Wynonna held the gun up as high as she could.    
  
Waverly stepped down from a bale of hay and sat on it, accepting the weapon gratefully. She looked down to her outfit; still in Wynonna’s open coat, her Shorty’s shirt and tight blue jeans. “How could I ever hide this?”   
  
“Didn’t say you had to.”   
  
“Oh, right.”   
  
Wynonna grinned when she saw Waverly smiling. She put her arms up in a mime of holding the gun. “One herbal tea.” She moved her hand in a pump action, complete with a sound effect. “Extra shot of oregano.” Waverly’s snicker was a welcome change to their first encounter of the day. “Nah, you don’t need to threaten people with a painful death for them to be nice to you. Everybody loves you.”   
  
“Not everyone.”   
  
“Almost! You even get Ginger Spice all tongue-tied.”   
  
Waverly palmed the side of Wynonna’s head and pushed it away as soon she’d stuck her tongue out and wiggled it. “Wynonna.”   
  
“Kidding, obviously. You wanna talk about it? I’m in supportive sister mode.”   
  
“Wanna talk about Dolls?”   
  
“Keep this in your sock” Wynonna ordered with a pointed look as she picked up a small but sharp knife, cover in place. “Or your bra, if there’s any room left.”   
  
Waverly’s eyes sparkled. “Oooh, can we spa?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“I could ask Dolls.”   
  
“Fine, but not now. Later.”   
  
Waverly relished the sensation of victory as she stood. “What time?”   
  
“I don’t know, later.” Wynonna stuck her hand out for her sister to help her up from the barn floor. Waverly took a strong grip of her hand.   
  
“When?”   
  
“Later generally means an undefined time in the future.”   
  
Waverly released her hold of Wynonna’s hand part way through pulling her up and she fell back to the ground ungracefully, much to Waverly’s amusement. It was short-lived, however, when Wynonna rolled away and swung her legs out, sweeping Waverly’s legs from underneath her.    
  
  


  
  


Nicole could still see Nedley’s anger towards her blatant disregard of his orders and could perfectly forsee the vein in his forehead which would certainly bulge upon discovering she had followed through with her plan. That, and desk duty. So much desk duty. 

 

Nedley ordered her to go back to the club only she'd worked at Pussy Willows for  _ weeks _ now and sure it had given them a starting point and a suspect, but she couldn't help but think they'd milked that cow for all its worth. If it wasn't time to quit the club altogether, fine, but it was certainly time to start getting out there. 

 

Nicole went into town in civilian clothes and a warm hat to ward off the bitterness of the air and keep as much of her hair covered as she could, blending in well. She was so paranoid of being made for the entirety of the first two weeks of the gig that she had broken into a sweat during each visit to the grocery store and only went for a run once it was dark. 

 

She sat in her car and stared across the street at the large logo adorning the front: Shorty's Saloon. Waverly worked there, she remembered her saying. Even if she didn't, Waverly had been wearing a Shorty's shirt earlier and Nicole's mouth twisted into a small smile at the memory of  _ finally  _ getting to kiss her. It was as wonderful as she imagined. 

 

It was the only reason she didn't dare to go inside. She couldn't allow the chance of Waverly finding out in that way, that Nicole had, through sheer necessity, lied multiple times when she deserved the truth. Waverly would understand, Nicole hoped. It was for her own protection. 

 

Nedley had nothing on William. 

 

Not a full name, not an address, not even any known associates or frequented locations except for the club. He wasn't in any system they ran. If Nicole didn't know any better she would say William was a ghost. 

 

The only thing she knew for sure was that the first time she encountered him on her way to her car that night, he smelled heavily of cigar smoke and whiskey. Shorty's wasn't the only bar in town but it did look to be at the hub, plus the number of patrons heading inside for happy hour, however early in the evening, gave her the impression that it had no worries on competition from other establishments. Someone had to know him. 

 

Nicole eyed a Wyatt Earp convention poster close to her car. She forgot it was happening over the next couple of days. 

 

Shorty's doors swung open and Doc stumbled out. 

 

Nicole studied him closely, spotting two hostled pistols. He looked… odd. Slightly out of place in a white shirt, grey slacks and matching waistcoat while the other two men he was with couldn't have been more than several years past the legal drinking age and in jeans and sweaters.    
  
The longer she looked at him, the more she recognised him from the club. He’d been there quite a lot. She remembered because he always ended up by Rosie. Well, that and the moustache.

 

She watched Doc stumble forward clumsily, surely heading face-first into the pavement until he somehow caught himself at the last minute and laughed, grabbing onto one of the younger men. Nicole flashed her eyes, all three looked  _ wasted _ . 

 

After a couple of attempts, Doc pulled his coat on and leaned forward on one of the guys, both hands on his shoulders to hold himself up. She could see them speaking but was too far away to even attempt lip-reading. 

 

There was something about Doc the way there was something about William. It gnawed at her. 

 

The younger boys walked away from Doc, staggering dangerously and shouting nonsense about him being their wingman for the hordes of women a Wyatt Earp convention would undoubtedly attract to their small town. Doc laughed and stuck an arm in the air back at them, swaying in place. 

 

Nicole saw the second his demeanour changed. 

 

The smile slid from his face and he straightened up, lifting his hat to run his fingers through his hair. Instead, a hard look of determination passed over his face and he plucked a cigarette from his coat pocket and framed it with his lips while he struck a single match and ignited the end smoothly. 

 

Despite making a conscious effort to never stereotype anybody in spite of how they look, Nicole really never would have guessed the pink sedan parked in the street belonged to that man. She followed him, in two minds whether or not to pull him over after several minutes of tailing him. He was either a terrible driver, or drunk after all. 

 

Except he didn't speed, stopped at all the right lights and signs, and honestly, he was all Nicole had. 

 

Either way, Nedley would tear into her once he found out about how she spent the rest of her day while supposed to be on shift at the club, so the least she could do was make sure she went back to him with a  _ lead _ . 

 

This man she followed, she'd seen him at the club. He and William shared a similar and strange sense of style, perhaps they were friends. He could lead her to him. 

 

She tailed him cautiously, never too close but never too far behind. He left town and headed out towards the middle of nowhere until occupied land distantly came into view; an old barn and an even older hovel. The pink sedan carried on and turned into the land. 

 

According to the sign above, the homestead belonged to the Earp family. Nicole made a mental note of it so she could run it through the system later.

 

She hung back, watching him through binoculars once he had gotten too far away to see. The car stopped in front of the porch and he exited quickly, walking inside the house like he had done so before, like it was familiar.    
  


Nicole worried her bottom lip. 

 

He had seen her in the club so approaching him for any kind of questioning was out of the question and she couldn't call in backup without being certain there was anything warranting it. She wouldn’t live it down, ever. It was bad enough being new in the department and a woman, she didn't need to hand any other shit for the guys to throw at her. She was already positively thrilled at the prospective insults and derogatory comments she would be on the receiving end of once all of this was in the past from some of the men in town who had seen her dance. 

 

On the other hand, if she could just find out a little more about that man she'd been following, if he had  _ any  _ information on William, she could help bring him down and secure her rightful place on the force as someone you didn't want to fuck with. 

 

Nicole  _ loved  _ being approachable, she truly did. She had always gotten a sense of joy from other people feeling safe enough to go to her, to  _ trust  _ her to keep them safe, but damn if she didn't get a thrill at being able to put the fear of God into some people too. 

 

She turned her car around and parked near some trees for some extra cover. Nicole leaned to the right in her seat and rummaged through the glove box until her fingers touched material. She'd hidden her identity for over weeks now but pulling the ski mask over her head made her feel, for the first time, like she was doing something wrong. She told herself she was being cautious, and this was simply a means to an end.   
  
She repeated it to herself as she exited her car. It wasn’t her cruiser, but it was still strange to not check in and tell dispatch her next move.     
  
“Nicole Haught: model officer. No, sir, I would never disobey a direct order, sir.”   
  
The only car parked out front was that shocking pink sedan. Doc exited the house with a beer and headed over to the barn, leaving Nicole eyeing the outside of it to determine him to be in there long enough for her to get past. She blindly felt for her badge and glock and headed right for the lion’s den, leaving her car out of sight.    
  


She moved towards the home quickly, checking her surroundings before she put a hand on the door handle. It opened with a flick of her wrist. Another glance around and then she was inside.    
  
Nicole unholstered her weapon and swept the rooms carefully, ready for William to be there at every blind corner, heart beating steadily as she went. Each step was calculated; soft and precise. The place wasn’t overly homey, she thought, but there were the tell-tale signs of it being lived-in, like blankets and throw pillows and half-burned candles in the living area, books with their spines cracked in a generously filled bookcase, and cold, stale toast on the kitchen counter next to a half-empty cup of black coffee.   
  
Hands gloved, Nicole opened drawers and cupboards, doors and storage boxes, anything to gain information. The more she looked, the more she found it difficult to believe the man with the pink car lived there, or that William had ever stepped foot inside.    
  
Nicole ran her fingers over the height chart carved into the wall. Wynonna and Willa.    
  
It must be old. There was nothing downstairs suggesting a child lived there.   
  
Especially the shotgun propped up against the fridge.   
  
In the hallway, Nicole’s eyes were drawn to several photo frames on the sideboard. One of them in particular stood out. There, right in front of her very eyes, was Waverly. She was younger by quite a few years, wearing a dress with one arm slung around Wynonna’s waist as she smiled so big the corners of her eyes creased. Wynonna wore a blue graduation gown and stood stiffly, as if someone had forced her to take the photo in the first place.   
  
_ Fuck. _ _   
_ _   
_ “Oh… Nicole Haught: biggest idiot.”   
  
She studied the photo again, drawn to Waverly’s grin. The photo next to it was Waverly and a few friends posing in front of a ‘21’ birthday banner and giant balloons. Waverly was smiling in that one too but it didn’t look the same.   
  
Skidding tyres brought her out of a distraction she shouldn’t have allowed herself to get lost in. Nicole’s head turned sharply towards the noise. A car door was banged shut, then another.

 

“Like he cares! He got a good sale.”   
  
“All I’m saying is, with your history, maybe don’t talk about demons when you’re stocking up on ammo,” Waverly said, trailing behind as they entered the homestead. “You’re lucky he didn’t call the cops.”   
  
“He wouldn’t dare! I know that dweeb from high school. One time he  _ literally  _ peed his pants when I asked him for a cigarette. Told him I’d take his secret to the grave.”    
  
“Good to know you’re a woman of your word,” Waverly muttered, unravelling the thick scarf she’d donned for a quick trip into town to stock up on ammunition, per Wynonna’s insistence. Next was her coat, draping it over the back of the closest chair.    
  


Advancing quickly through to her bedroom, Wynonna elected to ignore her. “You might wanna change; Doc’s back which means we’re leaving for The Blacksmith soon. Could get hairy, so hide a tub of salt somewhere.”   
  
“How?” Waverly called after her once the door had slid shut.    
  
“You’re the smart one, remember!”   
  
Waverly rolled her eyes and headed towards the kitchen anyway, cleaning up some of the mess she and Wynonna had left that morning. She sighed and opened up one of the cupboards, looking for the salt.    
  
The floorboards had squeaked in the hallway as long as Waverly could remember. They gave her away countless times as a child when she’d tried to eavesdrop on conversations that she was never allowed to be a part of, or when Willa had been on the phone with Mercedes Gardner for  _ hours  _ and Waverly was curious what was even that interesting for all the loud squealing and shouting to keep happening.    
  
Waverly turned towards the noise.    
  
“You know, maybe Dolls can come with? With that big stick gone from his butt, hiding a tub of salt should be a breeze, right?” She expected a snicker or a snort at the very least, but nothing came. Waverly smiled and called out, “You’re totally his biggest fan now. I’d gag if it weren’t so cute.”   
  
Wynonna’s singing voice came through distantly, like walls were between them.    
  
Waverly’s back straightened, concentration steeling her features as she reached for the shotgun by her legs. The floorboard creaked again and she worked the muscles in her jaw, fighting against the urge to immediately call for her sister. She gripped the weapon tightly and moved quickly, advancing through to the hallway.    
  
The intruder had their back to her.    
  
Waverly’s breath caught in her throat and she pulled back and forth, pumping the gun. It was loud enough for the intruder to stop dead in their tracks, gun in hand. Waverly felt her heart then, beating wildly almost as if to escape.    
  
“Hey! Wanna tell me why you’re in my house, shit ticket? As you can see from the outside, we have nothing worth stealing.”   
  
Nicole’s grip slackened on her gun immediately, leaving it hanging limply from her finger as she carefully turned around. She held her other hand up passively and carefully stuck her gun back in its holster. Waverly stepped towards her with a sawn-off shotgun still aimed at its target and Nicole cursed under her breath, edging backwards.    
  
“I wouldn’t do that,” Waverly advised.   
  
Nicole kept going until she felt something hard press high into her back, poking right into the space between her shoulder blades. It was unmistakably a gun.   
  
Wynonna stood behind, eyes sweeping over her sister. Waverly stood straighter under the attention and Wynonna shoved Peacemaker harder into their masked visitors back.    
  
“Oh, don’t be  _ shy _ ,” Wynonna said. “Why don’t you tell the class your name and where you’re from.”   
  
Nicole’s breath came in heavy and she stared at Waverly, unsure whether or not her eyes would be her own undoing. If Waverly got any closer…    
  
Nicole was still for all of one second. In the blink of an eye she had spun around and gained enough purchase on the barrel of Peacemaker to force it away. The heels of her palms connected roughly with Wynonna’s shoulders as she shoved her backwards to get some distance between them but was unprepared for the way Wynonna’s body swung around and delivered a well-placed back-hander.    
  
It sent Nicole dizzy and open, defenseless against another hit to the face, that time catching the corner of her mouth. After the pain came a warm flow against her tongue; the unmistakable taste of blood. Wynonna advanced and Nicole met her head on, grappling against each other. Eventually the extra height gave Nicole the advantage and she shoved Wynonna against the wall hard enough to dislodge the grip on Peacemaker. Nicole kicked it away and hauled Wynonna close, turning them and steeling her muscles to push her backwards as hard as she possibly could towards Waverly.    
  
Nicole made a beeline for the door.    
  
She was only a few rushed steps away when someone blew a hole through the nearest window, bringing her escape to a indisputable halt. She gasped through adrenaline and exertion, considering whether or not to take her chances and go for the door.   
  
Nicole’s dilemma cost her a savage blow to a kidney, spots briefly swimming in her vision. The next thing she knew, she was skidding over the floor with Wynonna stalking over to her.    
  
God damnit, Nicole really did not want to get off to  _ this  _ bad of a start with Waverly’s sister.    
  
Wynonna had been trained, Nicole was sure. She was strong and fast, and Nicole thought she would be a great asset if, well, she wasn’t handing Nicole her ass.    
  
In the living area, Nicole braced some of her weight against a chair as she pushed off the floor. Wynonna caught her around the throat before she’d gotten to full height and they crashed against the bookcase painfully. Nicole tried to breathe around the strong hands at her throat and prayed to a higher power that she be forgiven.    
  
“Let’s see who’s behind the mask, Scooby.”   
  
Nicole’s fingers wrapped around her glock and she brought her arm up hard and fast, slamming the slide against Wynonna’s temple. Stunned, Wynonna’s hands at her throat slackened and she swayed on her feet. Nicole shoved her glock away, feeling the safety switch still in position. She realised her premature mistake as she saw Wynonna’s unsteady hand raise Peacemaker. Reluctantly, and without a second to consider an alternative, Nicole’s clenched fist connected with Wynonna’s face and she went down hard, taking a chair with her.    
  
An intense sensation of nausea swept over Nicole that, she suspected, had less to do with the impromptu brawl and more to do with dissolving any possible future relationship with Wynonna. Nicole kneeled and carefully lifted Wynonna’s head, slipping a cushion underneath it.    
  
The bookcase blew into pieces.   
  
Nicole ducked her head and scrambled to her feet, darting through the house. Gunshots followed her.    
  
She made it to the kitchen and yanked on the handle. It didn’t budge.   
  
There was a loud pop somewhere to the side of her.   
  
“Hey!”   
  
Nicole stilled.   
  
Waverly’s hands shook but she held the gun steady. Her eyes were hard. “Turn around.” Wynonna was out cold because of this asshole who, for reasons still unknown, had broken into their home. The intruder turned slowly, hands open passively. “Who the hell are you?”   
  
Nicole grit her teeth.    
  
“Start talking, or I start shooting.” Nicole’s eyes darted behind Waverly. “Don’t even think about it.”   
  
Nicole didn’t know Waverly well, but she felt like she knew her well enough to take the gamble. She rushed past her and heard the clattering of the gun a moment before Waverly had taken hold of her arm and they fell to the floor in a tangle. Nicole used her height to her advantage, twisting her body on top of Waverly, trapping her beneath and between her thighs.    
  
Nicole hated the fear in her eyes.    
  
“If you kill me,” Waverly began, her unsteady voice betraying her, “my sister won’t just kill you once, she’ll do it over and over again in ways you can’t even imagine.”   
  
Nicole opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t know where to begin. She was really only left with one extremely difficult decision. A moment later, Nicole lifted her chin and grabbed her mask from underneath, tugging upward until it was off and she had to shake her head to get the hair out of her eyes.    
  
She was free to see the way Waverly’s eyes widened in shock.    
  
“I can explain,” Nicole promised hesitantly.    
  
Anger crossed over Waverly’s face and she bucked up, switching their positions. The change of dynamic made her feel better, if only momentarily. There was an angry red mark on the right side of Nicole’s face and a trickle of blood on the other side of her mouth.“You’d better.”   
  
“I didn’t hurt your sister.”   
  
Waverly’s eyes hardened. “She’s unconscious.”   
  
“Much.” Nicole sighed, going boneless underneath Waverly. “I had no choice, she had a gun at me. Waverly, I swear to you, I know it looks bad but I’m not the bad guy.”   
  
“You sure dressed for the role.” The first sighting of her flashed through Waverly’s eyes: Nicole had a gun. Nicole had a gun and she put it away once Waverly spoke to her. Waverly loosened some of the grip she had of her. “Give me one good reason to trust you.”    
  
Nicole hesitated, struggling with her decision. It really wasn't the best time, or anywhere close, but what else could she do. “I'm so sorry I lied to you.”

 

“What?”

 

“I'm a cop and unless you let me go, all this will be for nothing. Please. I just want to find the bad guy. You've no idea what he's done to those girls.”

 

“You're...”

 

“A cop.”

 

“Not a stripper?”

 

“No! Look, his name’s William, and I  _ know  _ he has something to do with those murders,” Nicole said, wiping the corner of her mouth. It stung and throbbed; would definitely be fat tomorrow. “I followed the guy in the pink car, I thought he could help. Bad call.”

 

“You think?”

 

“We’ll talk later, I promise. Meet me somewhere. Shorty’s, nine o’clock.”

  
“Wynonna!” Doc called out.   
  
Nicole reached up and pushed some hair behind Waverly’s ear. “Waverly please, I swear you can trust me but nobody can see me. Not yet. Not like this.”   
  
Waverly hesitated for a moment and finally understood that Nicole was between her open legs. She lifted off her and offered a hand. “Key’s on the end hook.”

 

“Waverly!” Doc yelled next, panic creeping into his voice.   
  
Nicole glanced to the cowgirl key rack and saw a key hanging on the last hook. She turned back and paused momentarily before she stepped forward, kissing Waverly firmly on the cheek. “Thank you. I'll call.”   
  
Nicole ran out without a glance back, leaving Waverly stood there.   
  
“She’s a cop.”

  
  
  


  
  


 

On their way to The Blacksmith, Wynonna was still in a bad mood.    
  
“You should have blown their freakin’ head off!”    
  
“I told you, I tried!” Waverly’s stomach churned at the idea of any of her shots actually connecting with Nicole. “They were faster. You’re the heir… you have a better shot than me.”   
  
“Bullshit,” Wynonna spat. “I mean,  _ true _ , but still, bull.”   
  
“You’re just mad because you have an egg on your head and a huge hole in your pride.”   
  
“I’m mad, ya turd, because someone broke into our home and tried to kill us, and they ran off into the sunset without a bullet buried in their butt.”   
  
Waverly had reflected largely at what had happened at the homestead; the fight, the chase, and came to the conclusion that Wynonna, not uncharacteristically, was being dramatic. “Did they? Try to kill us, I mean.”   
  
“Say what?”   
  
“I mean, they didn’t… start it.”   
  
Wynonna’s eyes widened and she twisted around in her seat. Rather than waste his breath to request her to turn back in her seat, Dolls glanced in the rearview and slackened the pressure of his foot on the gas pedal.   
  
“What now?”   
  
Waverly shrunk back in her seat. “I’m just saying, you went all Wynonna before they could even get a word out.”   
  
Wynonna exhaled slowly, eyes slipping closed. “Dolls, stop the car.”   
  
“God, get over yourself! Do you think for a second that I wouldn’t lose it if someone tried to hurt you? Count the holes in the walls when we get home, I’ll wait for an apology.”   
  
Doc swallowed tightly beside Waverly, grateful beyond words that the girls were both okay but thought he would forever be too old or too  _ male  _ to understand sisters. He should have driven his own car and avoided all of this. It was a gift from Wynonna; left at the side of the road during a missing person’s case. Doc thought it was a gift given in bad taste until Wynonna placated him by informing him that the case had developed into a murder investigation and the woman, Joyce Arbour, had no living relatives. It was pink and handsome and, best of all, peacefully silent on any journey, long or short.   
  
Several minutes passed and not a moment too soon did Doc glance out of the window, his eyes lighting up at the scene before them. “I have never been so glad to see a junkyard.”   
  
Waverly frowned next to him. “Some respect? Uncle Curtis swore by The Blacksmith.”   
  
“Pardon me.”   
  
“Stay alert,” Dolls advised anyway. “Guards stay up until we know we’re good.”   
  
Waverly exited the car and walked towards the open barn confidently, like they were old friends. Wynonna caught up to her, aggravation etched onto her face. “Are you deaf?”   
  
“Uncle Curtis—”   
  
“Was a good man with a lot of respect,” Wynonna cut in. “Me? Not so much a good girl, and less than zero respect. It’s true,” she insisted upon Waverly’s frown. “Just… don’t go in there blind.”   
  
“We come in peace, witch,” Doc spat out, his mouth pressed into a hard line.    
  
Waverly and Wynonna turned and stared.    
  
Dolls worked his jaw. “Really, man?”   
  
“We really do,” Waverly added as sincerely as she could muster. “And we need your help.”   
  
A long moment passed, wind howling in their ears, until Mattie Perley came out from a large, old barn in coveralls. Her expression was hard and unforgiving as she leaned against the doorway.    
  
“What do the Earp’s want with me?”   
  
“A big, fat spell for a big, fat douche,” Wynonna divulged.   
  
“Oh, she is right,” Doc added. “He is cancer to this world. Was then, is now.”   
  
Dolls observed a subtle hint of intrigue on Mattie’s face. “We’ll be in your debt.”   
  
“Who says you’re not already? You’re trespassing on my land.”   
  
“Please,” Waverly begged. “Bill Brocius? He’s back. Murdered almost half a dozen women in Purgatory just because he wanted our attention. This is only the beginning.”   
  
Mattie’s gaze did not soften. “Get inside.”   
  
  
Wynonna trailed her fingers over several trinkets as they walked through the barn. It appeared to be more of a workshop. It was vaguely interesting.   
  
“So, you’ve heard of him?”   
  
“William?” Mattie asked. “Yes, there have been stories.”

 

“Okay, sweet. How do I kill him? Usually Peacemaker here pops those zits back to hell, only bullshit Bill wasn’t offed by Peacemaker, so I’m thinking she’s going to be useless against him.”   
  
“You’d be correct.”   
  
“Swell. So, there’s some hoodoo voodoo you can pull? Shrivel him back into nothing, give me the strength of ten men, juice up Peacemaker?”   
  
“Not exactly.”   
  
“How is he back?” Waverly wondered. “There’s no mention of him in the journals. Why is he back now?”   
  
Doc side-stepped Mattie as she brushed by him to rummage through a cabinet behind him, moving various potion bottles around. “Your guess is as good as mine.”   
  
“Super helpful,” Wynonna turned around to mutter.   
  
“You said there were stories?” Waverly prodded, throwing a cross glance to her sister.   
  
“Lots,” Mattie confirmed. “But you know how it is; my grandmother told me, her mother told her… certain parts are bound to have been embellished or lost through the years.”   
  
“Okay, well, respectfully, we got squat, lady. This asshole killed an Earp, and he could try to kill another. Not about to let that happen, so, please, embellish away. Give us something.” Wynonna shrugged Dolls’ hand away from her arm, not wanting to be comforted.    
  
Mattie sighed loudly, forgetting her search for the moment. “Mary Gardner.”   
  
“As in Mercedes Gardner, those Gardner’s?”   
  
“Her great, great grandmother, I suppose.”   
  
“What about her?”   
  
“Stories go that she and Bill had slept together around the time Wyatt blew into town, and the idiot got herself knocked up and no doubt pumped full of a whole host of infections from that man-whore.”   
  
Doc searched his memory and came up blank. “I don’t remember any Gardner.”   
  
“She wasn’t a Gardner then. Mary Marsh. She was the town sweetheart from one over who had a screw loose to let him anywhere near her.”   
  
“Maybe she thought she could change him?” Waverly suggested.   
  
“Men don’t change.”   
  
Doc and Dolls remained silent, afraid to speak. 

 

Wynonna sighed. “Okay, so, Mary spread her legs and was cursed with the devil’s spawn, what next?”   
  
“She was engaged to be married when she spread those legs,” Mattie said. “To some rich guy in property, Hank Gardner. Wedding was super rushed, even for those days. She passed the baby off as his. He never found out, but Grace was a little bitch, could never stand him.”   
  
Wynonna smirked. “That a direct quote from grandma?”   
  
“When Grace was fifteen, Mary got the flu; it didn’t shake. On her deathbed, she cleansed her sins or whatever, came clean that Hank wasn’t her father. Grace couldn’t handle it, she ran away.”   
  
“Look, I may not be the most  _ maternal  _ of women but I really need you to get to a point,” Wynonna cut to the chase. “Grouchy Grace ran away when her Mom died, that sucks, I mean it and totally get it but why’s Bill here? What does he want with my sister?”   
  
Mattie glared. “Perhaps if you stopped interrupting me, I could tell you.”    
  
Wynonna’s eyes flashed, otherwise silent.    
  
“Running away wasn’t the same back then. Grace only ended up a few towns over, made quick work of finding a new friend to talk to. A woman. A witch.”   
  
“No way.”   
  
“Constance,” Doc growled.   
  
Mattie inclined her head.    
  
“Whoa, really?” Waverly asked.   
  
“Legend has it that she performed a spell that same night; damning the Earp bloodline and anybody else affiliated with Bill’s death, forever. At some point he would rise and cause inconceivable pain to any living person with Earp blood running through their veins. After that, scared to hell and back, Grace ran back to Hank and remained the dutiful daughter, even insisted on keeping his name when she eventually married. Pretty progressive.”   
  
“Yeah, that’s great,” Wynonna dismissed flatly. “So, was Constance off her game? Dude’s been  _ gone  _ like a hundred plus years, not one mention of him.”   
  
“My money's on him.” Mattie gestured towards a seething Doc. “His little climb back to the twenty-first century, and soap. Still searching for a razor, I see.”   
  
“My Dad would have known this. He would have told Willa, she would have told me. There’s no way.”   
  
“Yeah, ‘cause the Earp’s and the Perley’s have been besties for generations. You’ve never given us the time of day unless you need something, and like you said, nothing ever came of it so nobody needed to know. It was just a bedtime story.”   
  
“How wholesome.”   
  
Dolls piped up, “So, how does Wynonna stop him?”   
  
“Yeah,” Wynonna added. “How does Wynonna stop him?”   
  
Mattie’s gaze travelled down to Peacemaker and the rounds around her waist. Useless. “You don’t.” Beside her, standing a couple of inches shorter, stood Waverly whose arm was carefully looped around a durable shoulder strap; a shotgun hanging by her side. “She does.” 

 

“How about not a chance in hell?”   
  
“To get rid of him is simple: reenact his killing.”   
  
“How are we supposed to do that?” Wynonna looked up to the ceiling, exasperated. “Wyatt! Yeah, sorry to disturb the big snooze but could ya get your butt down here? Bring Virgil and all your friends. Got a mad problem, Gramps.”    
  
“I simply mean—”   
  
“What? Why don’t you start by telling me how I kill this fudger without goddamn time-travel or raising the dead?”

  
“Like I said,” Mattie bit out. “You don’t, Waverly does. With a little help, of course.”   
  
Wynonna almost vibrated in frustration. “What, you’ll juice up Waverly or that gun but you won’t do me or mine? You know how dangerous that’s gonna be?”   
  
“Peacemaker is  _ your _ weapon, and it’s useless. Bill caught a shell load in his belly, ergo…”   
  
Wynonna snatched it away from her sister. “And now I got it. Hit me with it.”   
  
“It doesn’t work like that. There’s one spell I can use, and it’s a one-time deal. Screw it up, miss? You're all dead.” 


	6. Chapter 6

Shorty’s was packed.  
  
Great for business, not so great for the makeshift family meeting called. The customers, a large majority being out-of-towners, were loud and rowdy and dressed as closely accurate to Wyatt as they possibly could. There were several Doc Holliday’s sat at the bar, much to the chagrin of Doc.  
  
Waverly spotted several men looking over at her and Wynonna and twisted away from them, using her jacket to cover Peacemaker before they spotted it and used it as an excuse to come over and make conversation.  
  
“You should be at home,” Waverly said carefully as she brushed her thumb over a pale blue bruise blossoming over Wynonna’s temple.  
  
“It’s trashed. Worse than usual. I can’t face it, right now. Our second home is as good as any, right?”  
  
They’d left The Blacksmith’s with, finally, more answers than they had questions, though Wynonna felt no relief for it. The only part of her history, her destiny, that had ever brought her relief was the knowledge that it happened to _her_ and not Waverly. Waverly was normal and perfect, and now she had been dragged into one of Wyatt’s many messes and there was nothing she could do about it.  
  
The only reason Wynonna had ever been able to claw onto some semblance of sanity throughout her entire life was because of Waverly.  
  
Hearing from a witch, especially one she wasn’t sure she trusted, that she couldn’t charge into the fight with Peacemaker aglow, well, it was a sharp nail to sit on.  
  
“We should be at the club, drawing him out,” Doc piped up.  
  
“Can’t risk the casualties,” Dolls rebutted.  
  
“Forgive me for the way this will sound but as long as Waverly is safe, I do not care for people I do not know.”  
  
“You sound like an asshole.” Wynonna turned towards Dolls, her face scrunched. “But he’s got a point.”  
  
“So, what, the dancers get hurt or—or _killed_ and that’s cool?” Waverly appreciated their concern for her safety but Jesus Christ. “Guys, no.”  
  
“What else have we got? Get Ruby on your cell and get her out of there, tell her you guys need to talk.”  
  
“And the others? Rosie?”  
  
Wynonna’s shoulders slumped. “Shit.”  
  
“We may not have a plan yet, but that doesn’t mean we just wing it. He’ll show up; he’s here _for_ us.”  
  
Waverly was right. He would indeed find them.  
  
“True. Hey, maybe we could get Rosie a job here,” Wynonna mused. “Right? She’d make killer tips. Better hours, slightly less pervy men to deal with.”  
  
Waverly eyed the full bar with dismay, sympathising with the bartender, especially as Gus was out with stomach flu. “We could use another pair of hands around here.”  
  
She was jittery inside, unsettled in more than a couple of ways, and decided that sitting there nursing a club soda was helping no-one, least of all herself, and made her way behind the bar. Waverly could do this in her sleep, even on the busiest shifts. She’d always been good at dealing with people, always got the most tips.  
  
Waverly served customer after customer, keeping an eye on the time and the couches by the window where Wynonna, Doc, and Dolls sat, seemingly deep in conversation. At least they weren’t charging the club. She’d forgive a little scheming; it wasn’t as though any plan they concocted could be brought to life without her after Mattie’s spell.  
  
The rush ended, eventually.  
  
The most recent thirsty customer took his beer with a wink and Waverly smiled politely.  
  
She took the dryest rag she could find and began wiping down the pumps, ridding them of a slight sticky residue. Waverly felt one of them slacken in tension but it registered a moment too late and she shrieked as the front of her camisole was soaked, hands flailing for the right pump to shove backwards.  
  
Eventually finding it, she gasped. “Jeez! Perfect,” she grumbled.  
  
“I didn't know Shorty's had wet t-shirt competitions.”  
  
Waverly turned at the sound of the voice, her mouth twisting into a reluctant smile at the sight of Nicole donning her Purgatory Sheriff Department uniform.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
Sudden onset heart palpitations had taken over, so probably not, no.  
  
“Yeah, just a bit jumpy. It's been… a _crazy_ night.”

  
“Sorry I wasn't here to see it.” Nicole's stomach churned and she removed the stetson atop her head, curling her toes inside her boots to ground herself. It was the first time she'd been out in town wearing her uniform, and it was for Waverly. Of course it was for Waverly. At least her unconscious reaction to nerves this time wasn't to sweat profusely and make a swift exit to the safety of her car and house. No, outwardly she knew she looked calm and confident this time. It was about Waverly now, about proving to her that she was worth trusting.  


“I've, uh, I've been meaning to introduce myself.” Nicole toyed with the edge of the bar nervously and then reached over it to offer her hand. “I'm Nicole. Nicole Haught.”  
  
The surprise was evident on Waverly's face, her eyes sparkling. “Hi.”  


“And you are Waverly _Earp_ ,” Nicole stated with a gentle squeeze of her hand, releasing it with reluctance. “Quite a popular girl around here.” Nicole knew because she'd spent an hour on the phone grilling Lonnie and Nedley on her and the Earps. Some of it wasn't good— awful, actually— but Waverly… she was different. Everybody loved Waverly. It wasn't like Nicole had room to judge anyway, not with her family.  


Waverly inclined her head, smiling in more of a perfunctory response than anything. People in town have always loved her, that was true; as long as she didn’t miss a step. She held the rag to her chest in an attempt to soak up some of the liquid. Her bra was wet and she didn't have a spare top hanging around the bar. She let Nicole's name bounce around her head over and over again. It fit. Ruby was nice, but Nicole was _real_. It suited her. Waverly stared at her, unsure where to begin on their overdue talk.

 

Luckily for them, the moment was broken by a bottle slamming down on the bar next to them.  


“You've _gotta_ be kidding me.”

  
Nicole smiled wryly. “Hi, Wynonna.”

  
“You sly bastard.”

  
“Wynonna,” Waverly chastised.

  
Wynonna tugged at the PSD patch on Nicole's sleeve. “Or is this fake, huh? Impersonating a police officer, who hasn't been there? Granted I was a hell of a lot _younger_ , but…”

  
Nicole offered a polite smile. “Wanna find out?”

  
Wynonna stared back defiantly, eventually breaking. “Okay, all right, jeez.” A smug, self-satisfied expression took over her face as she wrapped her hand around the neck of the beer she’d slammed down on the bar and pulled it close. “Knew you weren't a stripper.”  
  
Shorty’s doors burst open, another large crowd filtering in, and Waverly inhaled deeply. There was no way she and Nicole would be able to talk properly down there with all that noise and Wynonna’s eyes on them. “We should talk.”  


“Yeah.”  


“Upstairs? I lived here for a while… it's fine.”  


Nicole followed Waverly dutifully, ignoring Wynonna stood at the bottom of the staircase watching her every move. When she walked inside the tiny apartment, Nicole was unsure if she would rather be back out there with Wynonna than face Waverly’s silence.  
  
It was loud downstairs and Waverly thought, briefly, it was a good thing for the town, give it some positive press for once. Plus, the convention would be good for Shorty’s. The register had barely stopped ringing since they’d got there. A more prominent thought was that she was alone in a room with a woman who had gradually and effortlessly made Waverly lose her damn mind, and now she was in a uniform.  
  
Nicole removed her stetson and took in the small apartment above the bar, scarcely furnished save for an undressed bed, curtains at the windows and a dresser at the wall. She lifted a brow when she saw the bad attempt at filling in the hole in the wall from when Waverly got trigger happy at Champ on that bed with someone who wasn’t her.  
  
“You were going to explain how you ended up at my house?”  
  
When Nicole looked, Waverly had her arms folded across her chest. Nicole pressed her lips together. “Are you going to change?”  
  
Waverly opened one of the drawers, and another, and another. She should have known. It wasn’t like she’d ever had enough money to leave her possessions behind and simply replace them when she needed them. No, she’d taken everything she owned back to the homestead, including a damned key rack.  
  
Nicole understood and unclipped her radio from her shoulder, tugging the pouch free from her belt before she placed them on the bed and began unbuttoning the top buttons of her shirt. “Look, Sheriff Nedley contacted me before these murders. He said some guy was retiring. Bob, I think? Said he’d heard about me from a friend and that I would be an asset to him and the town and if I wanted it, Bob’s spot was mine. I took it.”  
  
“And that’s how you ended up working as a stripper?”  
  
“Girls were being picked off one by one and Pussy Willows hadn’t been hit yet, thought it was only a matter of time. We wanted to be a step ahead, so I hounded him until he agreed I could handle —”  
  
“Going undercover,” Waverly finished.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And kinda lying to everyone.”  
  
“Not by choice.”  
  
“But you did it anyway.”  
  
“Out of necessity,” Nicole challenged gently. “But all I kept from you was my name and what I do for a living, and that was because I had to. It was part of my job, and not a particularly enjoyable part of it. Everything else was all me. This afternoon when you came by and we —”  
  
“Why were you in my house?”  
  
“There’s this guy who stopped by the club a few times, William, totally sketch outfit and vibe, gives me a serious case of the heebies. I’m talking every single fibre of my being telling me something is off with this guy. I think he has something to do with this case. Got a feeling he has a partner so I followed some guy in a pink car to your place. That’s when I decided to take a look around because we have zero leads onto this guy, and got majorly made by you and your sister. She was, uh, _delightful_ , by the way.”  
  
Waverly smiled. For the most part, Nicole had good instincts. “I told you, she’s protective.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
Waverly tugged at the wet material of her top and Nicole made quick work of pulling her shirt out of her pants and unbuttoning the rest of her uniform shirt to reveal a black vest underneath.  
  
“You’ve seen me in a lot less,” Nicole said as she spotted the questioning expression, her fingers stilling. “Just giving you my tank. Okay?” Waverly nodded and Nicole continued, dropping her shirt on the bed before she crossed her arms and pulled the vest up over her head. She caught Waverly’s eyes flick up like they’d been drawn to the skin on display, and moved forward, fingers playing with the edge of Waverly’s pretty camisole. Waverly lifted her arms wordlessly and Nicole pulled upward until the offending garment was on the floor. Waverly wouldn’t take her eyes off her.  
  
“Nicole.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Except Waverly didn’t want anything, she just wanted to feel the way Nicole’s name felt in her mouth. It felt nice, similar to the way it felt when Nicole would say her name. Safe.  
  
“My sister’s a deputy,” Waverly said. “She works with Deputy Marshal Dolls, they take on cases the cops would struggle with. I help when I can, so does the guy in the pink sedan. I know he looks a little… but he’s just old fashioned, I guess. We’ve been investigating too.”  
  
Nicole mulled it over, pulling the vest down over Waverly’s torso. Her fingers grazed Waverly’s skin and she felt the tightening of muscles. It was mesmerising.  
  
“So, you were never at the club to learn how to dance?”  
  
Waverly mouth pulled at the obvious tease. “Not exactly.”  


“And that guy, Champ?”  
  
“Oh, no, he is totally and unfortunately real,” Waverly said. “And still totally and fortunately dumped.” Nicole’s hand was warm on her shoulder as she brushed the hair back and Waverly was all too aware of the half-naked state Nicole was in. Her throat was dry. “I can do better.”  
  
“Yeah,” Nicole smiled, reaching for her shirt.  
  
Waverly watched her put it on and touched her fingers to Nicole’s hands, preventing any buttons from being fastened back up. They fell slack against her sides, shirt hanging open.  
God, that was nice. All soft, smooth planes and subtle definition that Waverly couldn’t help but touch, first with one hand, then both.  
  
“Waverly…”  
  
Waverly’s hands tightened at the sound of her name, the pads of her fingers digging into Nicole’s hips. She pulled her forward by them, unabashedly enjoying the way Nicole folded for her. Her mouth touched Nicole’s neck first, open and wet, and then Nicole’s hands framed Waverly’s face, tipping her head back to join their lips. It was hot and deep and Waverly loved every second of being sandwiched between the dresser and Nicole, wished it hadn’t been interrupted as quickly as it had been.  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


They all gathered in the basement in search for privacy.  
  
Nicole watched Wynonna pout as Dolls brushed a lock of her hair back and thumbed her bruised temple. This had been Waverly’s bright idea: coming clean, getting everything out in the open. Nicole was at least forty percent sure this would be her last night on Earth.  
  
At least she knew how it felt to kiss and be kissed senseless by Waverly now, and that it had absolutely been worth it.  
  
“It was Nicole who was in our house today,” Waverly blurted without preamble.  
  
A stunned, nervous laugh tumbled from Nicole’s lips. “Whoa.”  
  
Wynonna stepped forward in a less than passive manner. “What?”  
  
“Uh, Waverly?”  
  
“Oh, she didn’t know it was our place,” Waverly added. “She’s been working undercover and Nedley told her to go back to the club but she disobeyed direct orders to find and arrest William’s accomplice, which is you,” she revealed, eyes on Doc.  
  
“Now wait just one minute!”  
  
“Thought, thought,” Nicole corrected quickly. “And was. Very important words here. It was mostly recon.”  
  
Waverly nodded beside her, slipping her hand into Nicole’s. “Let’s not lose our heads.”  
  
“Oh, like I almost?” Wynonna roared, crossing over. “You knew it was me and you _pistol whipped_ me?”  
  
“You had me in a choke hold!”  
  
“And that gives you the right to maim me?”  
  
Nicole wanted to scoff. “Underneath the makeup, I’ve got a bruise forming on my cheek about the size of your fist, so let’s not do this. I put a pillow under your head.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks for the gamble with a neck or spinal cord injury. Super considerate of you, _Officer_ .”  
  
That time, Nicole did. She turned to Waverly. “Is she always this dramatic?”  
  
Waverly’s eyes widened. She rubbed her free hand up and down Nicole’s arm. “Hey,” she murmured, trying to dissolve the tension.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Nicole said. “Really. I was wrong, and as soon as I realised it was your place I knew I’d made a huge mistake and sorta wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.”  
  
“That can be arranged,” Wynonna muttered, fingers twitching against Peacemaker.  
  
“Okay, what is the deal with that gun? You’re literally never without it.”  
  
Dolls regarded Nicole carefully. “So, you’re a cop?”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
Wynonna rolled her eyes.  
  
“How much do you know about William?”  
  
“Not much,” Nicole admitted. “Tell me he’s on your radar.”  
  
“He is, and he goes by Bill. Curly Bill Brocius,” Waverly said, the sole recipient of Wynonna’s very best glare.  
  
“He is,” Dolls confirmed stiffly. “But it’s classified.”  
  
“William—Bill: clearly _not_ a fifty-one-fifty and more of an incurable, raging psychopath, I got that,” Nicole said glancing between them all. “What I don’t get is why you’re here and why the cops can’t handle him. Nedley didn’t tell me y’all were investigating. Does he know?”  
  
Waverly’s hand squeezed in reassurance. “It’s a little more complicated than that. Haven’t you noticed that this town’s kinda weird?”  
  
“Waverly, so help me God,” Wynonna warned loudly.  
  
Dolls felt badly, but he was with Wynonna. His voice was stern, authoritative. “There’s nothing else we can help you with, Officer Haught, except I want you to know we’re on it, and he’ll be dealt with efficiently.”  
  
Doc sighed wearily. “Purgatory’s overrun with demon revenants, aka Wyatt Earp’s resurrected outlaws, Bill Brocius is _not_ one of them yet he is back from an unmarked grave in the eighteen-hundreds to wreak havoc upon myself and the Earp’s. I am Doc Holliday— yes, _that_ Doc Holliday, and Dolls here is just a dick.”  
  
Silence followed.  
  
Waverly swallowed, pulling Nicole’s arm tighter against her body. “And you’re a _cop_ , yay.”  
  
Wynonna spun around, thrusting a furious finger in Doc’s face. “I fucking hate you, right now.”  
  
Doc shrugged, unconcerned by her storming back up the stairs. “When doesn't she?”  
  
  


  


  


  
Wynonna’s jaw tightened at the appearance of Nicole at her side, stepping around to sit down beside her. She was furious with herself, and with Doc. While she was at it, she thought she might as well be furious with Waverly as well. It was just as well the others were down in the cellar, or at least far away enough that Wynonna couldn’t see them.  
  
“Not crazy, though I’m sure you’re convinced otherwise,” Wynonna said preemptively, stare fixed straight ahead as her fingers idly picked at the frayed edges of the hole in her jeans, right over her knee. “Whatever. Water off a duck’s back, y’know? People have thought that about me my whole life, pretty sure I can take it from one more. But I swear to God, you freak out about this and _tell_ someone? I’ll—”  
  
“Can you stop threatening me for a second? Like, cop or not, it’s kind of annoying.”  
  
“You’re kind of annoying.”  
  
“I’m kinda freaked,” Nicole admitted.  
  
“Whatever, just keep your mouth shut. Waverly doesn’t deserve to be wrong about anybody else.”  
  
“Who would I tell? Nedley?” Her laugh was soft. “He’d insist I resign, or stick me on even more desk duty than he’s sure to do when he finds out about this afternoon.”  
  
“And you don’t want that? Be able to pack your bags and walk away from this place like the past couple of months never happened?”  
  
“What? No, I _like_ it here.”  
  
Wynonna finally met her eyes. “You _like_ my sister, not this town. Nobody likes this shithole.”  
  
Nicole shrugged. “It’s quirky.”  
  
“That’s one word for it.”  
  
“I mean, is this hard to process? Yeah. But I knew something was different about this place the moment I got here. Has a vibe, you know?”  
  
Wynonna huffed out a deprecating laugh. “Roger that.”

 

For once, Wynonna wasn’t outright at Nicole’s throat. It was strange. “For the record, I’m sorry we got into it this afternoon. I’m sure my brownie points have shot through the roof.”  
  
“I don’t hate you.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“No.” Wynonna rolled her eyes at the expression of disbelief. “God, I don’t even know you. Waverly just deserves the best, and for the longest time she’s had the worst. Didn’t want her to see her crying over women too, even if you do look like that. Guys like Champ who I can hate right off the bat and be _right_ about, easy pickings. Not so easy to stay on my toes when you look _and_ smell like that. Seriously, what do you spray?” The back of her hand connected with Nicole’s leg. “And you’re _armed_ .”  
  
Nicole smiled. “So are you. Peacemaker, I hear she’s called?”  
  
“Yup. Sends the rev-heads back to Hell.”  
  
“And you’re being… literal?”  
  
“Literally literal.”  
  
Nicole nodded slowly. “So, I’m forgiven?”  
  
“Probation, Rubes. Best I can do.”  
  
“It’s Nicole, and I’ll take it.” She lifted a bottle of scotch, a brand that Waverly had pointed her towards, and poured a splash into Wynonna’s empty glass. “I know technically you shouldn’t be drinking tonight, not with that egg on your head, but someone tells me this is reserved for only the _biggest_ apologies and that’s where I’m headed, so maybe a really small one wouldn't hurt.”  
  
Wynonna’s eyes narrowed. “If you think I can be bought with top shelf booze—”  
  
“That’s not what I’m—”  
  
“You’re goddamn right. Cheers.” Her hands curled around the glass possessively. “You know, Ginger Spice, whether you and my sister end up being _gal pals_ or just friends who shared an epic smooch, there is one thing I’d like you to do for me from now on. Call me ‘sir’.”  
  
Nicole laughed. “Learn my name and we’ll see.”  
  
“If my sister decides you’re not a tool and wants to actually _date_ you, girlfriend title and all, I might.”

  
Nicole’s phone buzzed  and she reached into her back pocket. Nedley. She groaned. She was supposed to be working at the club instead of bonding with her kind-of-girlfriend’s sister. Even with the crazy revelation of _demons_ and curses and Doc actually being _Doc Holliday_ , Nicole wanted to stay.  
  
“Boss man?” Wynona guessed at Nicole’s subtle grimace.  
  
“Maybe soon to be ex.”  
  
“Nah, throw my name in there. He loves his grudge against me more than happy hour at this place.”  
  
Nicole thought she’d rather face Nedley’s wrath at her actions any day of the week than face Waverly’s for throwing her sister under the bus, permission or not. She excused herself to go outside and return Nedley’s call, resigned for an earful.  
  
It was calmer in the street, people of the town making the most of the weekend and the bars and eateries in celebration of Wyatt Earp, even if the latest generation couldn’t have been further from his legendary status. The air outside was frigid and her eyes watered moments after leaving the warmth of Shorty’s, her coat in the car.  
  
Either way, the call would probably be short and she held her phone to her ear as she walked, trying to duck into an alley between Shorty’s and the store next door for privacy, only it was gated shut this time of night. She walked the opposite way instead, ducking into one of the two doorways of Beau’s Botanicals. Nicole shivered violently, her core tensing as she willed him to pick up so she would have something else to focus on.  
  
“So not the time to leave me hanging, sir.”  
  
“There ain’t a man I know, dead or alive, who would keep you hanging,” Bill said, standing in behind her. He stood in way of a streetlight; illuminating all around his head and dazzling Nicole when she spun around to meet him.  
  
“Law or not,” he added. “Quite the surprise.”  
  
Of all the times for Nedley to ignore or miss her call. She cancelled it, lowering her hand to slide her phone away, keeping it by her belt. The streetlight stopped blinding her once she shifted her weight to the other foot, free to see him clearly. Now that she knew the truth, that the man stood before her had been born mid-eighteenth century, it made her skin crawl all the more. The fact that he wanted to hurt the Earps —Waverly— made her blood boil.  
  
“So is this. Where’ve you been, Bill? Lotta people have been looking for you.”  
  
“Oh, around. Nice town, nicer ladies. Some of ‘em have been so goddamn friendly, why… I coulda choked them.”  
  
“You here for an admission to guilt?”  
  
“I am here for many things, darlin’. This time has luxuries I never even dreamed of and I can hardly wait to experience them all. But loose ends, they do not sit well. Never have. It’s about time I got to fixin’ those.”  


  
  


The window broke easier than Nicole thought it would as she crashed through it. The simple sheet glass broke all around her and the wooden window frame buckled and splintered against the sheer force.

 

Nicole distantly felt the impact of bouncing off a table and skidding over it, taking someone down to the floor with her. Things were muted following that. Several moments later, almost like being underwater, sounds began filtering into her consciousness.

 

“Son of a bitch,” someone grumbled tightly from beside her.

 

Nicole's breath came in heavy pants, trying to determine by sensation alone if anything was broken. Her mind registered pain, lots of it, but nothing like when she was seventeen and fell off a skateboard trying to impress a girl at school without being fully conscious of it. Her arm had hung at such an unnatural angle that it managed to turn her stomach to think of even now, years later. No, nothing appeared to be broken. Cuts and bruises galore, impending raging headache, but no broken bones.

 

A hand blindly patted her face and Nicole closed her eyes against a finger poking her in the eye.

 

“You alive?” Wynonna asked.

 

“I think so.”

 

Wynonna groaned loudly, only slightly exaggerated, as she got back to her feet. She offered a hand down, hauling Nicole back to her feet. Wynonna tightened her grip when Nicole swayed, but it passed.

 

“Tell me that was Nedley being pissed at you.”

 

People of Shorty's rushed over to them with well-intentioned questions and offerings of help. Wynonna didn't think any of them had ever spoken to her in her life but they'd always come through with a stink eye and yet there they were, asking if she was _okay_. What a day.

 

“Get out of here,” Nicole ordered. She raised her voice for everyone to hear. “Everyone, out!”

 

Nobody moved.

 

The cellar door burst open, Dolls, Doc, and Waverly barrelling through it.

 

Wynonna rolled her eyes and stuck her arm in the air, eyes flicking shut with both fires of Peacemaker. Everyone ran towards the doors.

 

Dolls reached them first but he didn’t stop to talk, moving past them to the exit, weapon drawn. Gunshots ripped through the street, background music set to terrified screams. The door hadn’t finished swinging to a stop before Dolls backed through it, his face steeled in barely concealed rage. His hand remained flexed around his gun pointing straight ahead.  
  
Bill walked through the doors of Shorty’s with a maniacal glaze to his eyes and a lazy smirk stretched across his lips. A pistol was gripped tightly within his grasp, aimed with a clear shot to Dolls’s head.  
  
There were several clicks, all in quick succession. Bill felt a laugh build in his belly. He scanned the small but respectable bar until he saw her. Wyatt’s heir. Since his resurrection Bill had requested the story of how Wyatt Earp had gotten himself and his entire bloodline cursed by a demon and a witch each and every day. It cleansed his soul every time. Wyatt didn’t end up high and mighty after all.  
  
It couldn’t have happened to a nicer fella.  
  
“Earp! How the hell are ya?”  
  
“Better now you’re here,” Wynonna responded, not missing a beat. Peacemaker was trained right at him, instinctively, and her chest caught that it held no power over him.  
  
“A shared feelin’, I swear it. I feel just _capital_.” Bill followed movement from the corner of his eye. “Johnny Boy!”  
  
Doc glowered, both pistols drawn and ready.  
  
Bill lowered and holstered his gun with an air of pride. “Now _this_ is more like the reception I envisaged. Almost like Wyatt himself is here.”  
  
“Part of him is,” Wynonna chimed up.  
  
Once upon a time, Bill cared about Peacemaker. He went to his grave without ever admitting it but at night, unable to sleep while he thought up a latest tactic to get rid of the damn Earps from his town, he fretted over it in Wyatt’s hand. Now he looked at it like a child pointed their fingers at him in a mime, just like he did with the other weapons lined up towards him.  
  
“My apologies, of course.” Bill looked Wynonna up and down. “A damn fine part, indeed.” There was another motion in his peripheral and his gaze drifted towards it. “And here be the finest. Hello, darlin’”  
  
Waverly stood behind the safety of the bar as he took a slight bow. “For a dead dude walking, you could look worse.”  
  
“Much obliged, sweetheart. How’s about a closer look?”  
  
Bill took a step forward and his head jerked violently, stopping him in place. Nicole saw the way Peacemaker smoked and how Wynonna’s finger was curled around the trigger once more, ready for the next round. Then Nicole saw the bullet, flattened, bounce across the wooden floor.  
  
Bill drew his gun and spun around to Wynonna, his body jerking with each shot hitting him. As _unbelievable_ as it was to process, Nicole couldn’t deny the evidence. Bullets were bouncing off that clown like they were made of less than rubber. Nicole backed up, distancing herself from it as gunfire raged hotter, Doc marching forward with both pistols firing.

 

Bill eventually caught Doc in the shoulder, the next bullet missing the Earp heir by only a fraction. He tossed a bottle towards her and shot at it, sending shards of glass all around her. It was enough to get away. He ran, leaping onto the bar, his legs dangling off the other side. Bill smiled down in search for a cowering Waverly but instead found Dolls and Nicole, guns trained right at him. They began to empty their magazines.  
  
Bill wouldn’t lie, it stung.  
  
He fired back in retaliation, feeling some relief when a bullet buried itself into flesh and a loud cry screamed out.  
  
Wynonna hauled Bill backwards by a strong grip of his shirt, following him down to the floor. She clenched her fists and lashed out against his face. He laughed, gaining enough purchase on the floor to twist up and shove her away. Wynonna fell hard, head snapping back against the wooden floor hard enough for her vision to dim around the edges, but close enough to deliver a powerful kick to his face. It should have been enough to dislodge teeth. Had he have been strictly mortal, it would have done.  
  
She was still shaking the murky colours from her vision when Bill climbed over Wynonna and trapped her beneath him, his large hands settled tightly around her throat.  
  
“You got Wyatt’s eyes,” he said. “Always wondered how blue they’d get before there was no light left.”  
  
Doc emptied both of his pistols into Bill, each bullet as ineffective as the last. Eventually, all his guns did was click uselessly. Doc dropped them and made a start towards him.  
  
Bill moved quickly, too quickly for Wynonna to react, shooting up to grip either side of Doc’s neck, a rough twist of his arms producing a wet, sickening crack. Doc fell to the floor in a heap beside her, his eyes open and empty.  
  
For just a moment, the silence was deafening.  
  
Wynonna gasped, eyes wet.  
  
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.” Bill sighed loudly, brushing down his shirt. Bullets bounced onto the floor. “See ya in Hell, Holliday.”  
  
“Doc!” Waverly cried out, coming out from behind the bar where she’d been hidden away. A rifle gripped strong and sure within her trembling hands raised, eager to deflect an almost crippling level of fear and _pain_ back to Bill.  
  
“Bait!” he greeted, jovial.  
  
Waverly fired without hesitation, the blowback rippling through her arm and right up into her shoulder. She went for the bolt immediately, pinching it and pulling back to eject the casing. Waverly pushed it forward and locked it back down, ready to fire again.  
  
Bill beat her to it.  
  
Wynonna tackled him a moment too late. She heard Waverly scream and collapse to the floor.  
  
Wynonna landed next to Bill, unable to move. They’d been searching for this shithead for _weeks_ and he just turned up out of the blue and had begun to pick them off one by one without breaking a sweat. Doc _couldn’t_ be dead, but he was. Dolls had been hit. Waverly was…  
  
Bill found his footing first, grabbing Wynonna by her throat. He pulled her to her feet and slammed his head against hers. She became pliant, instantly softer in his hands, and Bill relished in it. His fist reared back and delivered a devastating blow to her chest, sending her careening down three steps and over a table and chairs, crashing to the floor. Bill stalked forward, following his prey down. His fists rained down on her again and again.  
  
Nicole grabbed Waverly by the arm and pulled, dragging her behind the safety of the bar.  
  
Waverly panted, a clipped groan slipping past her lips despite her very best effort to hold it in. Her hand gripped Nicole’s, blocking any inspection. Inspection meant more pain.  
  
“I gotta take a look, okay?”  
  
That voice. Waverly nodded reluctantly, gritting her teeth together when Nicole peeled the material away from her skin. “Tell me I’m not dying.”  
  
“You’re not dying.”  
  
“Doc’s…  Waverly inhaled sharply, her face crumbling. Nicole was there.  
  
“Hey. I know.” She lifted Waverly’s chin, saw her eyes clouded and red. “I know,” she repeated, softer.  
  
Dolls kneeled beside them, concern etched onto his face.  
  
“She’s okay,” Nicole assured confidently. She spotted the red seeping down his side. “Whoa.”  
  
Dolls panted, sweat beaded at his forehead. “I’m good.” He was gone quickly, Wynonna’s name on his tongue.  
  
Waverly twisted to follow him and cried out. She slumped back, her heart beating furiously. “Damn it.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Waverly had no chance to question Nicole before something was poured over her side. It felt like fire. She inhaled sharply, stiffening under Nicole’s hands. Nicole’s face steeled, serious, but her hands were gentle on Waverly’s face. “You’re okay.”  
  
Luckily, the bullet had only deeply grazed.  
  
Vodka had never been her first choice of a drink but Waverly grasped the bottle and tipped it back, taking a good swig.  
  
“Don’t move, okay. I gotta help your sister.”  
  
Crouched on one knee, gun firmly in her hand, Nicole watched as Dolls made contact with Bill’s shoulder and flung him across the bar with a simple flick of his wrist. It shouldn’t have been possible; with or without the pool of blood on his sweater.  
  
Dolls followed and he left his gun behind in favour of using Bill as his own personal punchbag, beating him down with as many blows as he could possibly deliver.  
  
Nicole kneeled down beside Wynonna and gasped. Her blood ran cold. “Wynonna.”  
  
There was so much blood.  
  
“Waverly,” Wynonna whimpered.  
  
“It’s me, it’s Nicole. C’mon, we gotta get you some place safe.”  
  
“I’ll kill him with my bare fuckin’ hands,” Wynonna swore weakly, unsuccessful in brushing off Nicole’s touch. She heard Nicole sigh and then all Wynonna felt was pain. Everywhere.  
  
Nicole winced at the scream, her throat thick. She didn’t know how they were going to get out of this but she couldn’t stop trying. Moving Wynonna this time was definitely a bad idea, but a worse one was to leave her a broken, vulnerable mess on the floor. No, she wouldn’t leave her like that.  
  
“Stop!” Wynonna begged.  
  
“Trust me for once, Earp.”  
  
Nicole’s grip tightened when Wynonna’s legs faltered beneath her but somehow she stumbled anyway, falling to the floor heavily with Wynonna between her legs. Nicole swallowed at sound of Wynonna’s choked, pained gasp and she’d landed heavily on her own hand, glass embedded into the skin.  
  
Panting, Nicole looked over her eyelashes and through her fallen, messy locks to see Dolls go down to the floor, stiff and heavy.  
  
Bill met her terrified gaze and unsheathed a blade.  
  
Nicole curled her leg up and reached down to snatch a gun free from her sock, one arm draped protectively across Wynonna’s chest in case she tried to do something stupid. She knew it was useless but it was all she had. Nicole fired six times, five of the bullets bouncing from his head.  
  
It was the bullet to the back that caught him by surprise.  
  
Bill turned slowly and Waverly dumped the rifle to the floor in favour of swinging a shotgun around her torso, strap secure and in place around her body. She could feel the bite of damaged, exposed flesh with each movement but it was nothing compared to seeing Wynonna bloody and beaten down, her and Nicole certain to be Bill’s next victims. Nothing to seeing Doc and Dolls still on the floor.  
  
Something akin to fear flickered across Bill’s face upon seeing the weapon.  
  
“Look at that; baby Earp still wants to play with the grownups.”  
  
“I _want_ you to go to Hell,” she growled, moving forward.  
  
The shell exploded, burying its contents into Bill’s abdomen.  
  
His eyes went wide.  
  
Bill gasped slowly, knife clattering to the floor. Distantly, he thought Waverly looked just as stunned as he must have done. His digits shook as he prodded his wound; open and wet and sticky. Bill laughed before the gravity paralysed him. Unable to suck in a real breath, his brows pinched together. He tried again and again and again. Smoke began to swirl out of the wound, slow at first; a brilliant purple. Bill started to shake, a low, haunting noise falling from his lips.  
  
Waverly watched his face crumble bit by bit.  
  
Bill tipped backwards in one swift movement, landing on top of Nicole and Wynonna in a cloud of ash.  
  
Nicole coughed violently.  
  
Doc sprung to his feet, eyes wild. “I will kill you _dead_ , Bill!”  
  
The tension in Wynonna’s body left her all at once. She slackened, slumped against Nicole. “Waves.”  
  
“She’s okay,” Nicole promised. “You’re… really not. But you will be.”  
  
Wynonna managed to pat her knee. “You too, Nedley Junior.”  
  
Waverly dropped to her knees beside them, eyes roaming over Wynonna’s face. “Oh, my God, Wynonna.”  
  
“Almost had him,” she breathed out, aware that at least one eye was full. The right one was swollen shut and felt vaguely like pudding. That's what she would tell Waverly, not that it was agony. Her hand held on to Waverly’s. “God, talk about scaring the stuffing outta me.”  
  
“You too.”  
  
Wynonna caught sight of Nicole’s bloody palm, and remembered that she’d been thrown through a window. An old, shitty window, but a window nonetheless. “Jewel could use some medical attention. Maybe… an ambo, Doc? Pronto? Also, I’m glad you’re not dead.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Nicole promised, Waverly’s hand resting heavily against her thigh.  
  
“Could be internal,” Wynonna huffed out, failing in her best attempt to sit up. Not to be dramatic, but she was certain she would die if she tried that again. “Dolls?” she called. “Dolls.”  
  
Doc rushed over, turning him over to lean down and check his airways. He swallowed tightly and thumped a closed fist down on Dolls’ chest. “Come on, Deputy Marshal.”  
  
Dolls came to with a start, knocking Doc back on his ass. Dark, wild eyes darted around frantically and blood soaked the left side of his sweater. It clung to him as he stumbled over to Wynonna.  
  
“How bad is it?” she asked upon sight of it, uncharacteristically concerned. She reached for him and he met her halfway, joining their hands.  
  
“Mostly his.” His jaw clenched at the state of her.  
  
“’s’okay, I got him.”  
  
Waverly lifted a brow and Nicole laughed.  
  
“Waves got him,” Wynonna admitted, a small, proud smile at her lips. “You did good, baby girl.”  
  
Dolls and Doc noticed the ash at the same time.  
  
“May I ask, what in the hell happened?” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
Hunched over her desk, Nicole rubbed at a knot on her shoulder.  
  
She yawned and blinked hard, ridding her eyes of their blurry, watery state. It was late, after midnight, and she’d been stuck on paperwork for longer than she’d ever been able to call herself a police officer. That’s how it felt, anyway. It had been _weeks_.  
  
But she took it on the chin, taking any shit or shift that Nedley threw at her, confident it couldn’t last forever.  
  
Times like this, in the dead of the night when her coffee mug was empty, Nicole’s faith in that wavered. She couldn’t sleep much during the day because Waverly was awake during the day and going more than a couple of days without seeing her did bad things to Nicole’s mood.  
  
She touched the faint red lines on the heel of her palm left from where glass had bitten into her skin, almost fully healed, as were her feet. She thought of Waverly, of how much closer they’d grown since everything that happened with Bill, and a soft, fond smile pulled at her mouth.  
  
It remained even as she began to read over a report detailing what could quite possibly be a contender for the most ridiculous use of police time and resources she’d read thus far for the town.  
  
“Hands in the air!” a voice boomed out of nowhere and Nicole knocked over an empty mug in her haste to draw her weapon.  


Wynonna smirked as she came into view, leaning heavily on the front desk.  
  
Nicole’s face darkened. “I could have shot you.”  
  
“Scared ya, didn’t I?”  
  
Nicole merely mocked Wynonna’s smirk in response.  
  
“You’ve been on desk duty for _ever_ . Wanted to liven up your evening, is all.”  
  
“It’s one in the morning,” Nicole pointed out, softening. “But things have been majorly slow. More so than usual.”  
  
Wynonna rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. I spent the whole night with Nedley. Should have seen his face when he saw Rosita behind the bar, Jesus. All the guys and, like, half the girls look at her like she’s a Goddess.” She shook her head. “Anyway, talk about a steel stomach. Took way longer than I thought it would, but I’m pretty sure his blood is like ninety percent scotch, right now.”  
  
It was no real shock for any of them when the insurance company rejected Gus’s application to repair Shorty’s given that the main culprit was blowing in the wind and they couldn’t exactly produce the security camera footage for obvious reasons. Seeing as Gus had resorted to using her own money, Wynonna had come up with a devious plan of her own to recoup some, if not all of those funds via a whiskey tasting event.  
  
Ticketed entry was a must, and grossly overpriced. The whiskies, for the most part, were nothing special. Nothing memorable. Every third tasting would be the crowd pleaser. In barely any time at all, Gus had almost doubled the money she spent on repairs.  
  
The tasting event lasted three hours, followed by a well-timed happy hour.  
  
Nedley truly wouldn’t be well during the coming days.  
  
“What?”  
  
“When I say he’s wasted, I mean on another planet,” Wynonna snickered. “He won’t be out of bed for at least a day, maybe three. So, you’re free! Step away from the desk.”  
  
Nicole smiled hesitantly. “You did that for me?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
Waverly breezed past Wynonna, bypassing the front desk in a beeline for Nicole. “Hi,” she greeted brightly, placing a cardboard cup  down in front of her. “Caffeine,” she said, leaning down for a kiss. “Sugar.”  
  
Wynonna feigned a retch. “Bucket.”  
  
There was a rush of heat at Nicole’s face and she ducked her head, a soft, pretty laugh escaping. Dolls came up beside Wynonna, a bag of takeout in one hand and a six-pack in the other.  
  
“Nedley’s office?”  
  
“Deputy _Marshal_ ,” Wynonna intoned, opening her hand to squeeze a handful of his ass.  


Waverly stood straight, leaning against Nicole’s arm, raking a hand through her hair. “We’ll bring the napkins,” she offered hastily.  
  
  


  
Nicole’s laugh was muffled as Waverly backed her against the break room counter and covered her mouth with her own. Unbalanced, Waverly’s fingers twisted the material of Nicole’s uniform shirt as she went back down off her toes. Those same fingers tightened and tugged, pulling Nicole down to her. Nicole’s hands were warm as they skirted over Waverly’s sides and stopped at her hips, pulling her close. God, Waverly loved this. Her arms looped around Nicole’s neck, arching against her as they kissed. Kissing Nicole was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Waverly found a passion and addiction in it that she didn’t know could exist.  
  
“Come home with me tonight,” Waverly breathed out.  
  
“Soon, when you’re all healed up.”  
  
They were kissing again. Waverly’s hand pulled and pushed until it was under Nicole’s shirt and inching upwards towards her chest. “Tonight.”  
  
Nicole’s heart beat quickly as Waverly’s open mouth moved down her neck and closed over a particularly sensitive spot. She started to feel that dizzying, heady sensation right as her body began to heat. Waverly knew all the buttons to press.  
  
Nicole knew then that Waverly had been playing her, and well, for a while.  
  
“You’ve been playing me,” she accused, hands slipping down to Waverly’s ass.  
  
Waverly nipped at Nicole’s ear. “Not even.”  
  
“Oh, right. The sponge baths?”  
  
“Imperative to my healing process.”  
  
“You’re full of shit.”  
  
“I’ve been in so much pain.” Waverly kissed Nicole deep and messy and lead one of Nicole’s hands up her body, over the almost fully healed bullet graze that, Nicole now knew, didn’t even hurt anymore, right over her breast. Waverly moaned softly. “Especially when you’re here.”  
  
“Waverly…”  
  
“I hate waking up in the middle of the night when I can’t just come over and crawl into bed with you, climb right on top of you.”  
  
Nicole leaned forward, forehead resting against Waverly’s. “I know, baby.”  
  
“I'm ready.” Waverly’s eyes slipped shut and she swallowed tightly, turning in to kiss her a little desperately. She willed her body to cool down but they’d been building towards this for what felt like forever and she was ready, she was so ready, and she needed Nicole to know how much. Her mouth tilted toward Nicole’s ear. “You know how wet I used to get watching you dance, even thinking about it? God, that first night I was in your bed… it almost killed me.”  
  
She’d never spoken to her like that, so _open_ . It felt good.  
  
Nicole groaned, fingers digging into Waverly’s hips. “You can’t do this to me at work.”  


It was _always_ at work.

  
“Now all I have to do is look at you and I’m…” Waverly looked at Nicole, eyes heavy and clouded with lust.  
  
“Me too,” Nicole breathed. “Soon, I promise.”  


 

 

  
  
A loud hollering of their names eventually brought them out of it, just barely.  
  
They were back in the bullpen when Nicole darted back to the kitchen to get the napkins and a bottle of water for Dolls. She walked into Nedley’s office and eyed two cardboard cups.  
  
“Which one’s mine?”  
  
Nicole was well and truly awake and alert but if she didn’t get the taste of Waverly’s mouth out of hers soon, she wouldn’t be able to form a complete sentence. She couldn’t wait for the food. It seemed like Dolls and Wynonna had already made a start while she and Waverly were otherwise occupied.  
  
Wynonna shoved Waverly closer but Waverly didn’t bat an eyelid at being manhandled, too busy studying the drinks. She slid one over closer to Nicole, getting the same order she would often buy for herself so that they could share.  
  
“There,” she said. “Wynonna likes hers bitter and black, I prefer mine sweet and white.”  


Dolls looked thoughtful for a moment, chewing slowly. “I'm not bitter.”

  
Nicole coughed around a mouthful, spraying coffee over Nedley’s desk. Wynonna winked at him, garnering a rare smile.  


Conversation flowed freely as they ate, Wynonna and Waverly being the first to twist open a beer. Despite a horrific one-night stay in the hospital, mainly to keep Waverly from hysteria, Wynonna had healed well since Bill. Most of the bruises had finally gone, her cracked ribs mostly a thing of the past unless she moved them a certain way or pressed up on her toes and threw her arms around Dolls to grab him in a headlock the two times he’d said something _ridiculous_ like ‘you’re so beautiful’ or ‘I want to take you out on a real date. Candles and shit on the table.’  
  
Now that they’d spent time together, forcibly, thanks to Waverly, Wynonna would admit to nobody, not even Dolls, that she found Nicole… okay. Not even when she was two beers deep and exhausted after a long day of doing nothing except get the town’s sheriff well and truly wrecked.  
  
Waverly’s hand rarely strayed far, always touching Nicole in some way.  
  
They stayed in Nedley’s office for hours, Wynonna comfortable in his chair with her feet propped up on the desk once they were all done eating. The Earp sisters divulged stories from the beginning of the Earp curse, leaving out more dire circumstances and tales, embellishing them full of humour instead, and Nicole roared, Waverly lighting up with her each time, mindlessly rubbing the pads of her thumb or fingers over the edges of Nicole’s blunt nails. Dolls shared stories from his time in the military, the ones he was allowed to, grinning when Wynonna would purr.  
  
Around four AM, coffee well and truly worn off, Nicole slumped back on the couch.  
  
Dolls and Wynonna had just left and Nicole didn’t envy the early hour she knew they both had to be up by. At least she was free to do whatever she wanted the whole day, maybe even the night too if Nedley was as wasted as Wynonna claimed him to be.  
  
Nicole had plans for Waverly, lots of them, but she’d also never met anyone with more energy than the Earps got whenever they were together. She sunk down further into the couch and let her eyes fall shut for a moment. She heard the door to Nedley’s office click shut and then felt hands at her legs, lifting them up. Nicole opened her eyes to see Waverly kneeled over her.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Nicole smiled as Waverly’s mouth came down clumsily on top of hers. She returned a press of her lips. “Hi.”  
  
“I’m here to makeout with you.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?”  


“Any objections?”

  
Nicole pretended to think. “Depends. Touch the end of your nose.”  
  
Waverly rolled her eyes even as Nicole shifted down the couch, completely horizontal. She leaned down and touched her nose to Nicole’s, brushing them together. When she pulled back her smile was sleepy, and a little silly.  
  
“I like you,” Waverly confessed.  
  
Nicole’s first instinct was to _smile_ because Waverly’s feelings for her were so very clear to see, as Nicole knew hers were, but Waverly looked at her with such vulnerable sincerity that Nicole swallowed, abruptly aware that nobody had ever made her feel this way. “I like you, too.”  
  
Waverly kissed her chastely, eyes fluttering open. She opened her mouth and her breath caught as if she was going to say something. Nicole’s expression was questioning and Waverly flushed, lowering herself against her girlfriend, head tucked into her neck.  
  
“You look exhausted, maybe we should sleep first, kiss later.”  
  
“Just for a few minutes,” Nicole agreed.  
  
Nicole’s breathing had begun to even out when Waverly adjusted her position on top of her, getting comfortable again. She felt Nicole rub a few slow circles to the small of her back; a certain guarantee to put her asleep, and fast. “I want you to stay over tomorrow,” she said quietly, wanting the whole evening together. “Okay?”  
  
“Okay, baby.”  
  
Just like that, Nicole was wide awake.  
  
After weeks of night shifts consisting only of desk duty, Nicole had grown used to the hours. She had not grown used to the mediocrity of the majority of reports but Waverly, Wynonna, and Dolls had taken care of that tonight. Truthfully, it’d been that much of a pick-me-up that she felt as though she could do another double shift without batting an eyelid, but then Waverly slackened on top of her, growing heavier in sleep, and suddenly the idea of being anywhere else in the world other than with Waverly Earp was unimaginable, and Nicole knew she would follow her anywhere.  
  
  


  


Much to Waverly’s relief, Wynonna chose that particular night to stay over with Dolls rather than him stay with them. There was a tension in the air as soon as Waverly opened the door to greet Nicole who, thanks to Nedley having alcohol poisoning, had the whole night off. Nicole had been free to switch shifts with Lonnie and was greatly looking forward to having a normal schedule, even if just for a day.  
  
Nicole had an overnight bag with her. Waverly spotted it right away.  
  
They’d managed dinner and an easy, flowing conversation, and Waverly _listened_ because she always listened, but she couldn’t stop looking either. She watched every move Nicole made and was embarrassed about it even if Nicole didn’t seem to mind.  
  
If she was honest, Waverly had been confused the second Nicole pulled away from their kiss in the doorway upon her arrival. She hated to do it, truly, but it was still natural for her to compare Nicole to what she’d had before. The first time she’d been with Champ —and the times they’d gotten back together— he’d taken her hand and took her straight to his bedroom, amongst other locations, and gotten right down to business. This was different. Nicole was different.  
  
And Waverly… well, she felt different, too.  
  
Nicole’s mouth tasted like the glass of wine they’d just finished and Waverly’s fingers dug into her neck as they kissed in her room, stepping up to press their hips together.  
  
“Can I ask you something?” Waverly asked.  
  
“If you ask me for a lapdance again, I swear to God... “ Nicole trailed off, delighting in Waverly’s laugh.  
  
“No! No, that’s not what I was going to ask. Unless you changed your mind,” she added cheekily. Nicole’s hands linked around her waist eased some of her apprehension. “No, I was… would it be okay if we just slept? You won’t be mad?”  
  
Nicole softened instantly, opening her hands to hold and rub Waverly’s hips. “Of course. Hey, no, whatever you need.”  
  
“Just kidding,” Waverly revealed, grinning as Nicole avoided a kiss and rolled her eyes. “Hey,” she laughed, trying to chase her mouth. “Nicole.” Waverly fisted the material at Nicole’s shoulder and pulled down, feigning seriousness. Her tone was stern, but she knew her eyes were playful. “Hey! Love me,” she demanded.  
  
Waverly was mortified as soon as the words left her mouth.  
  
She didn’t have time to utter an apology or, say, die, when Nicole lifted her chin and kissed her so thoroughly Waverly forgot all about it.  
  
By the time they’d stripped each other of their clothes and made it to the bed, Nicole’s mouth licking, sucking, and biting at Waverly’s breasts and thighs, Waverly had already begun to shake. She groaned as Nicole made her way back up her body, meeting her for a deliciously wet, messy kiss. Waverly twisted and rolled on top, the covers pooling somewhere in the middle of the bed as she sat astride Nicole.  
  
Her eyes fluttered shut when she moved, beginning a slow rocking of her hips. It wasn’t perfect, the angle was all wrong, but she was wet and swollen enough that the motion felt _good_. Her head tipped back and Nicole moved underneath her, sitting up to wrap her mouth around Waverly’s breasts and then her throat, licking a line across it.

 

Waverly took Nicole's hand and guided it between her legs.

 

“I'm sure,” Waverly said when Nicole hesitated for a moment. “If you're sure?”

 

Nicole brushed over Waverly's clit with the backs of two curled fingers and opened her mouth to Waverly's shoulder once she stiffened against her in a clipped gasp.  

 

“Look at me."

 

Nicole stilled her movements until she had Waverly's attention, until she could see her eyes, and Nicole watched them close as she pushed inside, slowly, until her fingers disappeared. She moaned at the sensation of it all, of Waverly's echoing sound and the way her body clenched and tried to pull her deeper.

Waverly opened her eyes to Nicole watching her and she struggled to recall a time she'd ever felt more connected to another person. Nicole began to move and Waverly dipped her head, kissing her deeply.  

 

In the beginning, Waverly couldn’t help but compare. Different people were always going to kiss and touch and love her differently, but Nicole? Waverly wasn’t sure anybody else would ever compare and they’d barely even begun.  
  
Waverly felt Nicole adjust the hold she had on her back as she leaned against it, fingers digging into a pale shoulder. She willed herself to let go or _loosen_ but each time she tried Nicole would brush her clit and find some deep, deep part of her to push against, and all Waverly could do was hold on.  
  
Every so often Waverly urged her on and uttered desperate pleas not to stop, told her how good she felt inside, and felt herself gush whenever Nicole would respond. It was ridiculous, really, how responsive her body was to Nicole, and had been since almost the minute they’d met.

  
Nicole’s shoulder had begun to burn and hurt long before she felt the beginnings of a fluttering around her fingers and Waverly’s breath came out in long, uneven gasps.  
  
Waverly surged forward and kissed Nicole the same time she reached down to still any more movement inside her. She groaned into Nicole’s mouth as the movement forward caught Nicole’s hand against her just so—just _right_ .  
  
“I want your mouth,” Waverly confessed breathlessly, opening hers to scrape her teeth over a spot across Nicole’s jawline. “Please.”  
  
Despite being almost positive she would come undone at the first touch of Nicole’s mouth against her, Waverly was brought and held to heights she had never experienced before. Rather than desperately seek an orgasm before it eluded her entirely, as had happened many times before even at her own hand, Waverly trusted Nicole to get her there when she was ready and, well, Waverly would enjoy every single maddening second of it.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now, folks. Not gonna lie, I loved every minute of writing this silly thing. Thank you to each and every one of you who took the time to read it. I've sorta left it open so that if a continuation happens, it happens. 
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Also, the title was inspired by The Prophecy by Maggie Koerner (her song Dig Down Deep is played during the Wynonna pregnancy reveal if her voice sounds familiar to you). It's a jem, and a jam, and I'd recommend a listen if you're open to music suggestions.

**Author's Note:**

> I was outlining a totally different story when this one came out of nowhere and refused to leave until I wrote it. I never have a say in those matters, so I went with it. This is the result.
> 
> Just to mention that the timeline is early S1, although bits and pieces from throughout the season are scattered about and or switched up in whichever way I needed.


End file.
